Metal Gears, Nanoprobes & a Word from our Sponsor
by SSJ-Alhazred
Summary: *Complete!* Can Team Steel and Philanthropy work together to solve the mystery of the Patriots without strangling each other first? Probably not...
1. Chapter I

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear Solid (or anything Metal Gear) for that matter, and I don't own Max Steel. My profit from this is an exact figure of zero dollars.

Oh come on, how could I _resist_ this crossover, eh?

Timeline/spoilers- Post-Metal Gear Solid 2, Max Steel season 3.

For the non-MGS2 players, yes, Vamp's... preferences are canon. Hey, I can't keep a straight face writing, him either.

Metal Gears, Nanoprobes, and a Word from our Sponsor

Chapter I

by Alhazred

madarab20@hotmail.com

Dark rooms and click-click sounds would ordinarily be found in haunted houses at obscure locations in the country, not in apartments on the middle of Manhattan. This was an exception. This particular room also included a hefty computer rig and a man sitting at it, his face bathed in color as the monitor provided the only source of light.

He'd been sitting there for hours, maybe a day, he wasn't sure. It was so hard to keep track of things when something needed to be found or hacked. Or as he preferred to say, "h4x0red."

At this particular time, the door swung open, bathing the room in orange from the kitchen light. Standing in the doorframe was a larger and older man. If the bathrobe, stubble and cup of coffee were any indication, he had just woken up.

"Otacon, do you _ever sleep?_"

No answer.

"Otacon."

"Hmm? Oh, hi, Snake!"

He hadn't even looked up. The sounds of keystrokes filled the ensuing silence.

"Otacon. _Sleep?_"

"Oh, g'night Snake, I'm gonna stay up a little longer and search..."

Taking a _very_ large gulp of coffee, Solid Snake regarded his compatriot with a blank stare and shambled off to take a shower.

And Otacon was still glued to his screen when he emerged from the bathroom, decked out in civilian clothes that would look nowhere _near_ as out of place on any other person. "Okay Otacon, before you pass out on the floor, have you actually _found_ anything?"

"Of course!" Otacon kicked his chair backward, giving Snake enough room to see the information displayed. "No Roy Campbell or Nastasha Romanenko, but _these,_" the scientist pointed a finger at several blue dots on the world map display, "are _definitely_ Ocelot-slash-Liquid being sloppy and letting that RAY be seen on the coasts. And down here, just before the tracker died, he surfaced and blew away an island in the Florida Keys."

"Must be where he thought the Patriots were hiding out. So what's the _red_ one? The rabbit-hole into Wonderland?" Snake asked.

"Close," Otacon leaned forward and hit a few keys, bringing up several photographs of a person they both knew all too well. "That's Vamp."

Snake deadpanned. "Vamp."

"Vamp," Otacon said. "In the most unexpected place for vampires and other like freak shows..."

"And he's all we have?" Snake sighed. "With _no_ indication that he's even a lead to what we're looking for, in fact, he probably has _none..._"

Otacon pushed his glasses up. "What _are_ we looking for, anyway? Olga's child or the Patriots?"

"Preferably both, but Olga's kid works fine. It'd be pretty stupid if Raiden took a header into the path of a bus before we could find him," Snake answered.

"Guess it would be. Well, I haven't got anything else, I guess we're headed for California."

"So what's he _doing, _anyway," Snake wondered, leaning closer to get a better look at the images. All of them were from newspapers, and Vamp was either wearing protective gear or posing with two other people that looked just as strange as he did. One of the pictures even featured him getting air on a skateboard ramp.

"Are you ready for this?" Otacon turned and looked Snake in the eyes. "He's part of an extreme sports team in Del Oro."

Snake looked at him in a rather odd manner. "He's what?"

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly."

---

A rev here and some airtime there repeated and improved upon several times, and Kat was finished. The crowd went wild for her as usual, and it _had_ to be a good sign that even Josh was clapping off to the side. The fact that she's completed the motocross course in less than two minutes was _definitely_ a good thing.

"Nice Kat, very nice," Berto half-bowed.

Josh chuckled. "Yeah, I'm glad _someone_ on this team can do that."

"Still jealous, eh McGrath?"

"Always," Josh rolled his eyes.

"Team Freakz is starting," Berto pointed back over to the starting point.

In the nearby stands, two men stood with their hands on the rails, tips of something electronic poking out from under their sleeves with a wire running up to a small speaker in their ears.

"'Team Freakz,'" Snake repeated, "Sounds about right. And I'd say the mini-directional mics are working, Otacon."

"Looks like Vamp is up," he heard Berto go on.

"Lucky you," Otacon said, "Vamp and his friends haven't said a word."

"Check the other teams," Snake advised, "everyone's raving about how Vamp and his buddies got to second place in the rankings so fast."

"Except the guys in first place, I'd imagine," Otacon chuckled.

Snake's wrist pivoted slightly. "You're right."

"Uh, Kat," Berto stared at the course, "I think he's gonna beat you."

Kat's mouth was hanging open. Vamp was tearing up the time-attack; at the halfway mark he'd been at least thirty seconds ahead of her time at that point. The massive gap had lessened, but the outcome still seemed unchangeable. And Kat had just set a record.

Before Josh could comment on this, he lost his footing and stumbled back, clutching at his head like he had a migraine. Kat noticed first and caught him as he fell over, easing his drop.

Otacon yelped and, having the sense of mind to make it look like he was swatting a mesquito away, tore the little speaker from his ear. Snake had a similar reaction, but having a higher pain threshold then his brainy partner, merely winced and held a hand to his ear.

"Did you get that too?" Otacon whispered in a rather rushed tone, restraining himself from being loud.

"Oh yeah," Snake gritted his teeth. "You sure you got the bugs worked out, Otacon?"

"Positive," was the answer. Otacon wouldn't settle for anything below perfect for things like this, and Snake knew it. "Maybe it's just overly sensitive to college jocks."

"Josh? Yo! Speak to us!" Berto waved a hand in front of his friend's face. Getting a blink, he took it a step further, snapped his fingers a few times, and made a peace sign. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three hundred and nine," Josh groaned, pulling himself to his feet with Kat's help. "_That_ hurt."

"What happened?" Kat asked.

"Oh, just a migraine, you know how that goes," he said, just a little too loudly. Kat and Berto noticed his eyes shift ever so slightly to the side and turned.

"Well, well, well, what have we here," Otacon smirked, seeing Vamp trot up to Team Steel with that sinister grin on his face.

Snake, at the end of his rope, pulled the speaker from his ear. "This is ridiculous. The freak is here _competing._ He is doing _nothing._ This is a dead end, Otacon."

"Well what do you _prefer_ we do," Otacon raised an eyebrow, "sit and do nothing at the apartment in Manhattan or sit here and _maybe_ do something?"

"Point taken," Snake growled, replacing the ear piece and re-aiming the mic just in time to hear Vamp make small talk with the competitor whose' time he'd just beaten before asking her friend if he was alright.

It was so much his style that it was frightening.

"I can't tell which one he's flirting with," Otacon blinked.

"I don't want to _know_ which one he's flirting with," Snake said.

Blanching, Otacon replied, "Come to think of it, me neither."

"So Vamp's making nice with his biggest competitors," Snake went on, reaching for a pair of binoculars to get a closer look. "Maybe we can use that."

"How?"

"I don't _know_ how_,_" Snake frowned, "but it must be _something._"

"Do remember to take your headache medication, Mr. McGrath, it'd be a... shame to never compete against you again," Vamp smiled.

"Of course," Josh answered, trying desperately to hold his smile.

"Doesn't sound like they care for him very much," Snake said.

Otacon rested his chin on his fist. "That's Team Steel. You know, Team Freakz just put them into the number two rank, they're probably feeling _very_ competitive right now. And Vamp has one more teammate then they do."

"I see three on both," Snake looked back down.

"Nope, I checked, the one in glasses is their manager."

Noticing the sudden silence from his partner, Snake turned. "What are you suggesting?"

Otacon just looked at him and chuckled. Light dawned in the spy's head, and a sudden terror crept into his eyes.

"Otacon, no."

"Well, **I** can't do it," Otacon said.

"No way in _Hell_."

"And no, you can _not_ have the stomach acid suppressor to hide your smokes, hand 'em over!"

---

"This is demeaning, Otacon."

"Shhh, don't talk to me with people around, Snake," Otacon's voice scolded.

"There _isn't_ anyone around. I'm heading up to the half-pipe, competitions for the day are over, and the closest people are the ones I'm looking for. _And_ I'm whispering." Snake shot back, really just venting the sheer rage he felt for actually going _though_ with this.

"Okay, let's go through the checklist, then," Otacon came back. "Kneepads."

"Check."

"Elbow pads?"

"Check."

"Helmet?"

"Check," Snake rapped on the plastic thing with his fist.

"Quality skateboard that is _way_ too expensive for our budget but you insisted on it anyway?"

"Hey, you said N-Tek sponsors these kids," he patted the board, "a little sucking up never hurts."

Snake could see Otacon drop his face into his hands from his end of the Codec. "Then why is the _rest_ of your gear _generic?_"

Snake rolled his eyes. "We couldn't _afford_ brand names for the rest, remember? Hey, if you want to go restart Philanthropy and get it on the UN pay role again, be my guest. Until then, budget cuts are a setback."

"_What_ budget cuts?" Otacon laughed. "We're unemployed in the first place."

"True, that. Are you in position?"

His demeanor turning serious and professional again, Otacon answered, "Yep, just got here. No one's in any of the arenas around here, either." Snake noticed Otacon put binoculars to his eyes. "Looks like all of Team Steel is there now. Um, Snake.. There's a problem."

"What's that?" Snake whispered lower, walking around the giant billboard at the top of the ramp.

"Vamp is there too!"

But Snake was already in sight, and Vamp was just jumping off the ramp and coming to a stop on the platform. His reflexes kicking in, Snake dashed back around the billboard instantly and pressed his back to it. "Thank you Otacon. Next time you're going to watch, _don't_ take the binoculars off."

"Sorry," the scientist squeaked.

Another reflex caused Snake to jerk his hand up; he'd almost impaled his fist on a rather large stray nail on the sign. It'd drawn blood, something he remedied with a simple bandage.

"I'm leaving the frequency on so you can still talk without popping up and scaring me into a wipeout, for your information," Snake sent back.

"All yours," Vamp smiled, kicked his board up to his hand, smiled at Josh, and took a bow in his direction. He now wore the same coat he had in the Big Shell, but the slices in his chest and the bullet hole in his stomach were gone. For that matter, so was the one in his head. Vamp didn't quite move yet, his eyes darted around for a split-second and he inhaled a large breath through his nose.

His smile turned into a grin, and he walked off. Snake slid around the other side of his cover as Vamp walked away.

"Man, that guy couldn't _possibly_ be creepier." Berto crossed his arms, holding back the shudder that Vamp's mere presence brought on. "Hey, look at me, I'm too _good_ to wear pads."

"Hey, it's not _our_ fault he's so friendly it hurts," Josh scratched his head.

Deciding this would be the perfect time to make himself noticeable, Snake opened his mouth. "He's not being friendly."

"Huh?" Berto, Josh and Kat collectively answered, turning to the newcomer.

"I said, he's not being friendly," Snake repeated.

"_Smooth,_ Snake," Otacon rolled his eyes over Codec. "Of course, you're used to making sure people _don't_ see you, so I guess you have an excuse."

Silently wishing he had some way of telling Otacon he was ignoring him to be rude and not to look 'normal,' Snake went on. "He's hitting on you."

"Come again?" Josh was visibly confused.

"He's bisexual. Ya'know, 'Vamp,'" Snake made quotes with his fingers. "He's hitting on you."

Josh's face took a swan dive while Berto and Kat giggled behind him, quickly stopping like nothing was wrong when he glanced back to glare.

"He was definitely hitting on _me_ after the time attacks this morning," Kat chuckled, "I dunno, you up for a threesome, Josh?"

Josh went red in the face, while Berto couldn't contain his laughter anymore. Totally scandalized, the former turned back to Snake. "So how do _you_ know so much about him?"

"Oh, we've met before," Snake rolled his eyes. "Meeting _that_ freak isn't something you forget. Mind if I take a spin?"

"Not at all!" Josh beamed, gesturing for him to go right ahead.

"You just want out of practicing your boarding, McGrath," Kat shook her head.

"You're right, I do," he confessed.

Meanwhile, Snake put his board down and shoved off.

"_Nice,_ Snake," Otacon tracked him from his perch. "I've known you for years and you're _still_ full of surprises."

"Hey," Snake answered when he came back to the opposite end of the half-pipe, "even I had a childhood. Kind of. My ankle hasn't twisted this way in thirty years, now I know why I stopped doing this and got the espionage gig."

"Unbelievable," Otacon shook his head, watching Snake launch off and spin around so much it almost made him dizzy. "Tony Hawk, eat your heart out. Hey Snake, try some of the things Vamp did, might make them notice more."

"You know, he's pretty good for an old guy," Berto said.

"Better then Vamp," Josh added.

Kat cracked her knuckles. "Yep. Ya'know, Team Freakz outnumbers us, I'm thinking we should even that up a little."

Waving her off, Berto made it clear he didn't like where this was going. "Whoa, whoa, guys, you're talking about some dude as old as all of us combined who _may_ be a good boarder and may suck at everything else."

Frowning, Kat answered, "You're right, you're right..."

"But that's why you've got me around to check someone's background in five seconds flat and see if he has a reputation. Assuming this guy's even interested."

"That's why we love ya, Bro," Josh grinned, suddenly flinching and rubbing his head behind the ear.

"You okay, Hermano?"

"Yeah," Josh shook his head, "hearing that weird ringing again, not so bad this time."

Elsewhere, Otacon pulled the earpiece to his d. mic out and gave up on the thing. "Hey Snake, sounds like they're curious. Act interested and bay for pity."

"Otacon, no offense, but don't give me social advice."

A sound that sounded vaguely like growling reached Snake's ear through the Codec. Snake chuckled to himself, shut the frequency off, and jumped to a stop back on the platform.

"Hey, you part of a team at all?" Berto asked.

"Looking for one... you looking for a new teammate?"

"We might be," Josh glanced at Berto and Kat. "Why don't you give us your number and a name, and we'll be in touch?"

"Gladly," Snake looked down as he rummaged through his pockets for a pencil and a stack of post-it notes. He handed the paper to Josh when he was done. "Name's Dave. Dave Hayter."

"Josh McGrath."

"Pleased to meet you. I'll catch you later."

Snake walked off, content with his first step of success. Otacon would have to make a nice false identity for him, including some references to being _very_ good at extreme sports. And then he'd have to practice faking that some more.

Otacon's voice came over the Codec. "'Hayter?' Is that your real last name, Snake?"

"It most certainly is _not,_ Dr. Emmerich."

"Dave, what are you doing Dave," Otacon came back. He never tired of that gag.

Snake decided that he shouldn't have told his dear friend _Hal_ his first name to begin with.

Back on the platform, Berto stared after Snake after he'd left. "Oh boy... guys, are we _sure_ about this?"

"About what?" Kat blinked.

"We're thinking about bringing on a guy that's got to be at least forty years old here, and... why? Because Team Freakz is pissing us off and we absolutely _must_ even things?"

Josh and Kat looked at each other, then back to Berto, both responding with a simple "Yes."

"Great, we're honest about it," Berto smiled. "I'll run that background check. Something kinda weird about him..."

Kat said, "Yeah, he wouldn't know a razor if he shaved his finger off."

"I _know_ I've seen him somewhere," Josh added. "I'm gonna follow him around a little."

---

"Max, you've been following the guy for _hours._ I'm _shocked_ you haven't been shorting out yet."

"Hey, _you're_ the one who said something was weird," Max whispered. "Make up your mind, Bro."

"I know, I know," Berto answered, his own voice fading over the Biolink. "But that doesn't mean something's _wrong._ So he's nocturnal; it's 1:00am and he's done nothing really strange except walk around a lot. If he was going to be _living_ with us I'd say go right ahead, but it's not like he'll be slashing us in the night."

"I just _know_ I've seen him somewhere before, though," Max said back.

Sighing, Berto answered, "Look Hermano, I'm going to bed, and I think you should come back yourself."

"But," Max started, hearing Berto's end of the link turn off. "Great. The second you leave, something's gonna happen. Stealth mode."

Still creeping along through the shadows, Snake rounded the corner of the building and ended up in front of the fence blocking the courtyard from trespassers. The pool was close enough to reflect light every where.

Otacon had said this was the hotel Team Freakz was staying at while competing in the D.O.X. so it was certainly worth snooping around, but he was starting to get impatient to the point of going up to Vamp's room and just _asking_ for... whatever.

Nothing in the place was out of the ordinary, if he wanted to find anything he'd have to get into Vamp's room, and Vamp's room was high up. No dots showed on the Soliton Radar, so Snake took a step out into the moonlight and walked along the fence, looking up at the higher areas of the hotel.

Getting up there wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world, but after things like Shadow Moses and Arsenal Gear, it wouldn't be the most challenging either.

Max watched him step along, noticing he managed to step without making a sound and hide well enough in the dark when he wanted to. Skill like that meant he probably had good hearing. The invisible secret agent made it a point to be quiet himself.

He almost failed at that when he looked through the fence and saw a _shape_ emerging from the water, not swimming, more like standing up in the deep end.

It was Vamp. When he stopped moving, he was _standing_ on the water as if it were solid as concrete. Snake heard the water dropping from his body and turned, slowly and deliberately.

Vamp made no motion to hide; he merely smiled and bore his fangs when Snake looked at him through the fence. "I _knew_ that was your blood in the air. I wasn't sure you'd show. I've been waiting for you, Solid Snake."

Solid Snake... why does that sound familiar, Max thought.

He kept himself still; if Vamp could do things like stand on water he could probably see the distortion from his cloak if he moved. And a power drain right now would be an exceedingly _bad_ thing.

"I'm flattered," Snake answered.

Vamp cocked his head to the side. "It'll pass. Why are you here?"

Snake crossed his arms. "Why do you think? Patriots? Olga's kid? Take your pick. Be nice if you told me anything about either, too."

Laughing under his breath, Vamp said, "And what makes you think I know of either? Heh, the La-li-lu-le-lo... did it not occur to you that I'm simply _living?_ Queen is dead, Solidus is gone, and Revolver Ocelot is currently... unreachable, if he exists anymore. You will forgive me for doing something to pass the time rather then twiddling my thumbs and, eh heh, _dying_ of boredom."

Vamp crouched down, jumped from the water, and soared over the fence to a landing less then a foot in front of Max. Max didn't move a muscle, but Snake turned to keep his eyes on his query.

"Maybe you are, maybe you aren't," Snake's hand moved to his back, where his trusty SOCOM sat under his belt and hidden under his shirt. Just in case. "But you're not an ignorant type. I'm willing to bet you know _something._"

"I'll tell you this much," Vamp raised a hand and snapped his fingers up, one his throwing knives now held between them. "Following the La-li-lu-le-lo is a dead end. 'The Patriots are a kind of ongoing fiction themselves.' _Your _words, Solid Snake."

"How did you know," Snake started. A sound hit his ears, footsteps, and pebbles grinding under someone's feet.

Max kicked himself. It hit him right there; Solid Snake. He _had_ heard that before. But he'd also stumbled back, and made noise.

Max froze when Snake turned. He turned back... but Vamp had vanished. So he looked toward the sound again... and then walked closer. He could _swear_ the wall of the building across the street was bending in a way that it shouldn't, almost like someone was using...

And then Max felt the nanoprobes hit redline. He lost the stealth and fell to one knee in pain, the transphasic energy putting on quite a light show. For a brief second, he completely forgot that thought that this was the worst possible time for it to happen.

"What the," Snake said. "Well. I didn't know optic camouflage got that violent."

He stepped toward his stalker, but Max rolled on his hands, threw a kick up into Snake's stomach, used the momentum to get to his feet, and sprinted off.

Snake was close behind. "Now I'm mad. Otacon!"

"What's up Snake? Find anything?"

"Oh I _found_ something alright," Snake kept running. He rounded a corner in time to see Max round another and continued the chase.

Max gambled and tried stealth mode again. If he could get one last charge against Biocon in the jungle, he could get one here.

And it worked. He stepped into the shadows so Snake would see the distortion as he ran by on the sidewalk, and ducked into an alley as soon as Snake was a satisfactory distance away. The stealth failed again and Max started to feel himself fading, so he did the only thing he could and powered down.

Hoping Snake wouldn't double back when he realized he'd lost his prey, Josh took off in the opposite direction with the intent of getting back to the van.

Berto and Kat were going to get a very _early_ wakeup call...

---

Solid Snake did not look happy. "I lost him."

"_You_ lost someone, Snake? I thought the performance earlier was a surprise." Shoving his glasses up his nose, Otacon pretended to ignore the daggers Snake glared. "So, didja get anything?"

"Depends on how you define 'anything,'" Snake pulled a chair from the kitchen table and sat down, wincing as the fresh bruise on his abdomen began to make itself known. "Vamp said he knows something about the Patriots, not in so many words. Nothing on Olga's kid."

"How 'bout the guy wearing Optic Camo?" Otacon flopped onto his bed, opened his laptop and hooked the phone cord into it. "Gimmie something I can look into."

"Brown hair, blue eyes, kid, wore N-Tek gear."

"N-Tek?" Otacon began typing. "You're kidding me. Maybe we're in the right place after all. This'll take me a few minutes... big businesses aren't always in my league."

"Out of your league, Otacon? That's a new idea," Snake chuckled.

"Hey, gimmie a break, I'm not a hacker by trade," Otacon didn't look up.

---

Josh rarely felt as energetic as he did when he finally made it back to the van, especially considering how low he was on T-Juice at the moment. Before doing anything else, he hooked himself to the portable generator, turned it on, picked it up, and carried it with him throughout his little journey.

Then he rattled the bunk shades and raised his voice. "Kat, Berto, wake up!" Nothing came from Berto's bunk, but he heard Kat groan herself into consciousness. He also knew better then to pull back the covering with no warning. "C'mon Kat, getup! _Berto!_"

Now conscious himself, Berto proved that he wasn't actually _awake._ "Jo~osh it's two in the mo~orning... go to sleep."

Kat's bunk flew open, and she stared him down quite well considering the bags under her eyes and the fact that she had dedicated one arm to holding her blanket up. "What the _hell_ is so important at 2:00am, McGrath?"

Josh's eyes lit up. "Kat, he's Solid Snake!"

"The what, what?" She shook her head, her eyes glazed over. "_Who's_ Solid Snake?"

"The guy, the guy we met on the half-pipe, the guy that wanted to join the team?" Josh blurted out, far too excited from a combination of being drunk with revelation and being _way_ overtired.

Kat stared at him and didn't blink for a long moment. Her expression never changing, she said, "_The_ Solid Snake?"

"_The_ Solid Snake," he repeated.

Kat shook her head. "Whoa. Okay, you know what, I can _not_ process this right now, tell me again in the morning. _Later_ in the morning."

She got back in bed and pulled the slide closed again, but Josh, being hyped at the moment, would not be deterred. He half-opened the slider to Berto's bunk.

Berto was still awake. **"Go. To sleep."**

And Josh watched as an empty glass flew out of the darkness and shattered against the wall behind him. He blinked at the debris a few times. "I think I'll go to sleep..."

"Good idea, Hermano. Good idea."

---

The ref list:

-The title is inspired by an episode of Reboot.

-The dialog-

"I'm flattered."

"It'll pass."

-is from Blade.


	2. Chapter II

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear Solid (or anything Metal Gear) for that matter, and I don't own Max Steel. My profit from this is an exact figure of zero dollars.

Metal Gears, Nanoprobes, and a Word from our Sponsor

Chapter II

by Alhazred

madarab20@hotmail.com

Rubbing his eyes and slipping his glasses on, Berto asked, "Did you sleep at _all?_"

"Yeah," Josh smiled, thumbing through the contents of the folder in his hands. The tag on the side read "Dave Hayter." Berto had tossed it together before going to bed the night before (technically, earlier this morning.) Josh tossed the folder to the table. "It's all fake."

"What?"

"He's Solid Snake, Bro," Josh exclaimed, "it's just a false identity!"

"Wait a minute here," Berto started, rubbing at his eyes. _Too early for this..._

Kat emerged from her bunk. "Hey, you mean I wasn't _dreaming_ you said that last night? The guy _is_ Solid Snake? He's still _alive?_"

"Yep, Berto, the Biolink was on after you turned in, why don't you play it back?"

"Uh, sure," the scientist's eyes shifted. "Just... tell me something. Who _is_ 'Solid Snake,' anyway?"

Kat's eyes went wide. "Don't you live on this planet?"

"Yeah," Josh blinked, "what kinda Secret Agent _are _you?"

Annoyed, Berto glared at them and leaned against the wall. "Obviously, the uninformed kind, Hermano."

"Snake is like, _the_ legend, Bro!"

"Best spy there ever was," Kat added. "Hey Berto, you can read really fast, right?"

"Yeah, it's kinda a requirement for being a computer genius," Berto smiled, certainly not above bragging.

"Great," her face lit up. "I swiped a copy of In the Darkness of Shadow Moses from N-Tek when we left."

Josh followed her as she rummaged through her things. "Kat, you _have_ a copy and you didn't tell me? Maybe others would like to read it."

"Sorry, never crossed my mind," she came out with the aforementioned book and handed it to Berto. "Read."

His curiosity piqued, Berto took the book and started doing just that.

---

Solid Snake was very jaded. He'd seen a lot in his life, and he had no doubt he would see a lot more before leaving this mortal coil. But Otacon... he was a different story. "You stayed up all night again, didn't you?"

"Yep!" He chirped, bringing his laptop over to the table. Snake tried to figure out how he could go with no sleep and still avoid fatigue completely. "And I found a few things."

Snake peered over his shoulder as usual at the official N-Tek data Otacon had swiped. "Doesn't look like much."

Sounding rather glum, Otacon answered, "It's not. I got a little ways in and then the firewalls blasted me. Whoever set up their security is either good or lucky, it was better then Armstech's, that's for sure. Anyway, here's the first little item of interest I found."

Scanning over the simple list of items, Snake couldn't see what was so interesting. "I don't quite follow, Otacon."

"See 'Team Steel' listed on the pay role, no surprise there, right? Lookit the date it was added."

"What the- that's at least two years before they started competing!" Snake rubbed at the stubble on his chin.

"Yep," Otacon raised a finger, and then brought up more data. "Now look at the current roster."

Snake squinted at the words. "Who the hell is Max Steel?"

"I'm getting to that. What **I** wanna know is, why is he on this list if he's nowhere to be seen? If there's already a third competitor on that team, why do you even have a _chance_ of infiltrating it?"

"'Infiltrating?' Otacon, they're just a bunch of kids," Snake reminded him, "this isn't a hostage situation with the threat of nuclear strike. Yet."

Otacon agreed. "Thank goodness for _that_. Anyway, here's the last thing I got, this little attachment."

The file Otacon opened was a photograph taken at the front doors of N-Tek.

"That's him." Snake pointed to the man at the far right. It was the guy that'd shadowed him with optic camo, he was certain. Same clothes, gear, hairstyle, the works.

"My guess, _that_ would be Max Steel," Otacon said. Berto and Kat were elsewhere in the shot, but there was one man Snake didn't recognize. "Who's that?"

"Jefferson Smith, all around boss-guy at N-Tek, and, are you ready for this?" Taking his glasses off, Otacon continued. "Josh McGrath's adoptive father. And yet Josh McGrath isn't in this picture, but it's dated last year. Okay, so maybe I'm reading too much into that, but I stopped believing in coincidences after Shadow Moses."

"I stopped _during_ Outer Heaven," Snake started to pace around the room, his feet making a rather distinct sound against the cheap wood floor. "So. There's this Max Steel character that's connected to Vamp... how, exactly? And he's supposed to be part of Team Steel but is never there. So this all adds up to... Otacon, what does this all add up to?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

Looking back at the image on the laptop screen, Snake started to wonder. Max Steel, if that's who it was, had a familiar look. Red flags started waving in Snake's head; the face and head were all wrong, but the build, the stature, the body language... "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say he _is_ McGrath."

While Otacon pondered that, a sigh escaped from Snake, long, deep and exasperated. "You know what this means."

"What?"

"We're taking a trip to N-Tek," Snake answered. "I'll get the Kasatka."

---

Berto was tempted to call a mental institution and have his teammates committed. "Guys, this is ridiculous," he called, more then three-quarters done with In the Darkness of Shadow Moses. "Don't tell me you guys _believe_ this crap. All this 'Metal Gear' stuff has been in every tabloid for years. And is there enough phallic imagery in this thing? Solid Snake, Liquid Snake, sounds like porn stars."

He flipped by more pages, reading each one almost instantly.

"Uh, Bro, you _do _know N-Tek had files on the whole thing?" Josh asked.

That got Berto's attention, he looked up, eyes wide. "Seriously? Man, I knew I shoulda' looked in the historical archives more often... wait, there are people out there that actually _call_ themselves these names?"

"Scary, isn't it," Kat added, watching the end of Josh's Biolink records from early in the morning. "I doubt Psycho Mantis had many dates."

"At least we only deal with 'Psycho,'" Josh added, his phone ringing. He wasn't surprised at who was calling. "Hey Dad!"

Berto sought out his computer. "I gotta start digging some of this stuff up."

Kat wasn't far behind. "Hey, find out what the guy's been up to _since_ then," she suggested.

"Uh, Berto," Josh hung up, now fairly alarmed. "It'll have wait. Dad needs us at N-Tek."

Berto and Kat looked at him without saying a word. They hadn't been to the N-Tek building for more then five minutes since...

"Someone _good_ hacked into the computers last night," Josh added.

---

"How are you doing, Snake?"

"Coming out of the ventilation duct," Snake said back. "I took a fork and came down a _really_ long ladder that wasn't showing on the radar, might be something good."

"I had to hack the architect's database for the radar's schematic function this time, the construction materials used to build it absorb radar naturally. Expensive stuff," Otacon told him, "The building is old enough that there have likely been additions by the company themselves since it was designed. Have you actually _needed _those armor piercing rounds yet?"

"Nope," Snake absent-mindedly patted his SOCOM, "but it doesn't hurt to be prepared. It's nice to have bullets that could actually damage a Metal Gear. Okay, kind-of damage a Metal Gear."

The grate that led out of the ventilation duct was being stubborn. Snake wasn't getting any readings on the radar, and people would have shown even without the floor plan. He pulled a nice contortionist trick by turning around, after which he kicked the grate clear off the wall. It clattered to a stop on the metal floor in the room beyond, kicking up dust, and Snake stood in that room shortly.

"Otacon, you should _see_ this," he looked around, "this stuff looks more advanced then the supercomputers you had in your Shadow Moses lab."

"Damn, just my luck to be in the air," his partner replied.

But upon closer inspection, Snake realized it was almost a false alarm. "Actually, you might've been disappointed, looks like most of the equipment's been stripped away."

Indeed, whatever the room had once been used for, it was long abandoned. The door was crisscrossed with what looked like police tape, except the label read "Federal Bureau of Investigations: Cease and Desist." The massive computer systems were missing console boards, monitors, and probably key hardware, though the large main screen was still there. Snake guessed no one knew what to _do_ with it.

"Is there _anything_ left?" Otacon's hope for something useful was fading, but Snake had already noticed a few things.

"Computer's still got a few lights blinking, I'll see if I can start something up." The "On" button worked fine. The system booted up to the N-Tek logo, but it seemed more then a little sluggish. "Well, I started _something_ up."

Otacon pushed his glasses up. "Put the wireless modem I gave you on the floor and turn it on."

Snake did just that. "Done and done."

"Okay, let's see what I can get at here..."

---

Kat didn't mind being left alone; it wasn't like the boys were being mean, after all. Besides, Berto was the genius and Josh was Jefferson's son. The Helifoil had two seats. It made sense.

Unfortunately, it also made her bored to an unfathomable level. The van was a lonely place with no one else in it, and movies only went so far. Of course, it could have been worse, Berto could've been sick again. And it was more fun being bored then making more sooop and joooce.

Rather then continuing to pace _inside_ the van, Kat decided she would pace _outside_ for a few minutes. She couldn't actually go and _practice_ anything because the D.O.X. competitions for the day had already started.

So she walked around the van. Once, then twice, and a third time for good measure.

Then she went back inside. "How thrilling," she muttered.

"Not at all."

Instantly spinning on her heels, Kat took a defensive stance against the intruder... but no one was there. Or so she thought; a second later it became obvious someone _was _there, the wall behind them distorted by a cloak. The voice didn't sound like Max... or Biocon, for that matter.

The cloak dropped, and Kat took a step back. She didn't let her surprise show, but if the armor this guy was wearing wasn't that cyborg-ninja exoskeleton described in In the Darkness of Shadow Moses, she'd declare herself to be Queen Victoria. The only difference was the sword, or lack thereof; this one had a _rocket launcher_ slung over his back.

"And _you_ are?" Kat demanded.

"Hmm," the Ninja considered, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. "Neither enemy nor friend."

"What do you want?" She asked, determined to get _some_ sort of information.

The ninja took a step forward and slowly reached into a pocket of his suit. Kat kept one eye on his hand, but it just came back holding onto a computer disk. Holding it out for her take, he said, "I'm doing you a favor. Give this to Dr. Martinez."

"Why the favor?" Kat asked, swiping the disc from his hand without moving her eyes. She didn't know the voice either; it sounded fairly electronic, but there was a distinct Russian accent to it. Assuming _that_ wasn't false.

"You don't need to know," the ninja answered, pulling the rocket launcher from his back and holding it out with both hands. "You may need this as well, your friends could need help. N-Tek has been infiltrated."

Kat stared him down without taking it; grabbing something that large meant using both of her _own _hands, and she wasn't willing to have some massive object impair her if things got ugly. Apparently seeing this, the ninja crouched down and propped it up against the wall.

His business done, the ninja snapped off a mock-salute, turned his optic camo back on, and dashed out the door.

And Kat saw no trace of him when she ran out of the van less then a second behind. So she went right back in, slammed the door shut, and sought out the phone.

The line rang exactly once before being picked up. "Roberto Martinez."

"Berto? Yeah, it's Kat. We might have a problem."

---

It was all Berto could do not to go hysterical over the phone. "A what in a _what _broke into the van?"

"Whoa, Berto," Josh put a hand on his shoulder, "what's wrong?"

The younger man put a hand over the phone's mouthpiece. "Some guy dressed like a ninja broke into the van. Uh huh... uh huh..."

Josh, though concerned, gave up for the moment as Berto resumed his conversation.

"Alright, don't let it out of your sight, I'll take a look at it when we get back," Berto went on, "he left you a _what_ and said _what?_"

Deciding that this was going nowhere, Josh tried to yank the phone away from Berto. Berto wouldn't give it up, but aside from tightening his grip, he didn't seem to be aware of Josh's actions as he listened. Eventually, however, Josh claimed the prize.

"Kat, it's Josh. Uh huh... he what and said _what?_"

"Oh for cryin' out loud!" Jefferson roared, stomping over and grabbing the phone himself. "Kat? Jefferson. Yeah... he left you a Stinger missile launcher and said N-Tek's been infiltrated?"

Jefferson lowered the phone. No one said a word for a long moment... and then all three of them said the same thing at once. _"N-Tek's been **infiltrated**?!"_

The phone on Jefferson's desk rang. An eerie quiet fell over Josh and Berto while he answered it. Hanging it up after a few acknowledgements and an 'understood,' he looked at the pair. "A motion detector just went off in a restricted area."

"I'll hate myself for asking," Berto raised a hand, "but... what area?"

His face warping into the very definition of stress, Jefferson answered, "I'll give you one guess."

---

"Well, I think it's safe to say N-Tek is up to something," Snake sat back in the dusty chair as more and more information flashed across the screen. "And this place is underground. _Way_ underground. I found it by luck. And you should see the room I went through to get _here._"

"I dunno," Otacon came back. Rarely did someone show so much emotion that Snake could make it out on their face through the tiny Codec image, but Otacon was clearly skeptical. "A lot of this information is just leftovers, stored in unmovable hardware and just left around after they packed up shop. Not that it's worthless information, you're not going to _believe_ some of this, Snake, but I'm starting to wonder if we're chasing a wild goose here."

"Keep trying," Snake sent. "I want to know who these clowns are anyway."

Without warning, the screen went black and the system itself shut down.

"Uh oh," Otacon visibly jumped. "I just got busted. Snake, they're onto us!"

But Snake was already out of the chair and heading back the way he came. As far as he was concerned, they'd gotten _something,_ and it was time to become scarce.

The _real_ fun would be finding an alternate way to the surface; if N-Tek security was smart, they'd have all the exits sealed, and ventilation ducts were easy to guard.

---

Never thought I'd see **this** place again...

Max crept along the rubble, currently stepping on the only stable part of the ring. The chair he used to sit in for a charge-up was destroyed, the machine itself was in ruins... none of it had been cleaned up, none of it at all. Even the door was taped off. What remained of the magnetic rings was being held up their own debris.

It was a depressing sight. But Max couldn't see anyone around, so he went into stealth mode and listened.

"You're _sure_ the structural layouts you hacked don't show this place?" Snake whispered, hopping up to catch the edge of the ring. It shuddered a bit, but he pulled himself to the top without incident.

"Not that I can tell, Snake," the engineer came back. "But it _is_ kinda hard to fly the Kasatka, hack a computer _and_ look at diagrams. Maybe if you could be more specific..."

"Otacon, it's a room," grunted Snake. He pulled himself up and stood on the ring, nothing showing on the radar. "It's big, it's round, it has rings, and it's totaled."

Taking a look back at his printouts, Otacon answered, "Nope, that's _definitely_ not in the diagrams. Is there a little red light in the wall anywhere?"

"No," Snake looked around, a puzzled look on his face.

"Dave, I suggest you take a nerve pill."

"**Shut up, Otacon,**" Snake growled. But the anger just wasn't in him and he gave in. "_Why_ can't you just pretend to be Mei Ling again?"

"Now Snake, I never 'pretended' to be the young women you hit on, maybe you should-"

"If this comment involves the word 'Vamp,'" Snake cut him off, "I do _not_ want to hear it."

Otacon just chuckled. "For the record, I am now serious about the nerve pill."

Snake rolled his eyes. _Can anyone remember when spies actually got **support** from their base?_

Max didn't have the faintest clue what Snake was talking about, but it was obvious he wasn't talking to himself. No; he remembered from the book, Snake communicated with something similar to his own Biolink, if less advanced.

His thoughts turned to more serious matters. Snake was snooping around the old rooms, and it was entirely possible he'd already found something. Fortunately, there were only scraps left to find.

So he crept up behind Snake and decided to break the ice by switching off stealth.

What he _didn't_ remember from the book was Snake's radar, and when he uncloaked, he lost the radar absorption that prevented Snake from seeing him on it.

And Snake's immediate reaction upon seeing the dot appear directly behind his position was to whirl around and backhand Max across the face. Snake hit him with such force that he almost fell from the makeshift platform, but he managed to use the momentum to roll backward and spring to his feet.

Snake didn't back down. "Max Steel, I presume."

Despite the bruise developing on his cheek, Max couldn't hold back a smile at the fact that a living legend knew his name. "Got it in one. And you're Solid Snake?"

"Am I?" Snake tilted his head. "Friend of mine once said, 'I am like you, I have no name."

"Gray Fox?" Max raised an eyebrow.

Snake twisted that around a little. He shook his head, "I must have words with Nastasha about giving me an alias in her next book..."

"Might be a good idea," Max called, leaping at Snake. The fight was on.

Wearing the goggles tuned into Max's Biolink was an experience. Berto found that the lack of peripheral vision tended to make it seem like he was Max himself, and it made it all the more horrifying when Max took a hard blow and staggered or fell.

Right now, Berto was horrified _and_ instinctively ducking around blows. Snake was good, there was no question about that, and he was giving Max a run for his money. But that wasn't what worried him. "Max, be careful, he's got guns on his belt; looks like a .45 caliber and a tranquilizer."

Max's method of answering was to grunt back while he positioned for another attack.

Snake pulled his M9 before Max moved and took a shot, but Max saw it coming and hopped up onto the actual floor. Feigning a standoff, Snake cocked the gun and pretended to aim again, but his other hand took the SOCOM from his belt brought up.

Snake was no Revolver Ocelot, however, and Max stepped to the side long before the shot would've hit him. Deciding he needed another strategy, Snake quickly let his eyes wander; there was a steel girder hanging precariously from the ceiling, it wouldn't take much to knock it down if he hit the right place.

Expecting Snake to shoot at him again, Max was someone surprised when he aimed his gun high and fired a pair of shots. But the armor-piercing rounds cut through the fatigued metal of Snake's target, and the girder dropped right on Max's head.

Max wasn't out by a long shot, he'd been hit by worse, but for the moment he was totally dazed and Snake took the opportunity to make his exit.

Otacon called him. "Snake, I've been looking at the stuff I got, it looks like there's an elevator that leads back to the surface, but you'll have to find it yourself."

"Of course," Snake rolled his eyes, running out the half-open door instead of back through the ventilation systems. "Bring the Kasatka in."

---

Max had never suspected the stuff in this room was this heavy. "Damned lucky nothing's broken..."

With a grunt, he put his hands on the debris burying him and shoved it off. _Anyone get the number of that Snake that hit me... Snake!_

"Berto, you there?"

"Heading down there now, Hermano," Berto called back. "You've been on Mars for a couple minutes!"

"No, no," Max shook his head, trying to think straight. He vaguely recalled something that Snake while he was delirious. _Bring it in, Kasatka... Kasatka... Russian helicopter! _"I'm fine, go get the Helifoil, he's got a chopper waiting!"

He could almost hear Berto skidding to a stop and changing direction. "Gotcha, want me to wait for you?"

"No, take off, I'm going to go see if I can grab him."

Snake, meanwhile, had managed to avoid any situation defined as being 'grabbed.' There were only two security guards outside the little shed that hid the elevator, easily taken care of by knocking their heads together. "Oh of _course,_ I climb _how_ many stories down a ladder in a ventilation duct and _this_ is right here."

With that out of his system, Snake turned toward the growing sound of a helicopter approaching. Otacon wasn't going to approach closer then the waterline to avoid anyone getting a visual, which was fine with Snake, considering it was all of twenty feet away.

It was also fine for Max when he ran out the door and site of the chopper himself. He could run faster then Snake, and run he did. When he was halfway there himself, he heard the Helifoil approaching from behind... but Berto was too far away. The Kasatka wouldn't have to land, a fact made obvious when a ladder dropped out of the side.

"No way in Hell," Max snarled, seeing Snake make a grab for the ladder. The chopper turned and started to fly off as soon as he had a hold. The Helifoil could catch up with a Kasatka, but boarding a helicopter from a helicopter wasn't the easiest or safest way to go about things.

If he wanted to catch them before they were too far out over water, Max would have to be fast, and that was a simple enough thing to accomplish. "_Going turbo!"_

Snake took one last look back at the island while Otacon raised the chopper higher into the air. At first, he found it amusing that he'd managed such an easy getaway; he couldn't remember the last time he'd been on a mission and didn't have to do things like fight forty-foot tall 'mechs and avert nuclear attacks by terrorists. In fact, he was fairly certain he'd _never_ been on a mission that didn't involve that.

But the site of Max Steel, glowing brightly and running faster then humanly possible towards the edge of the sheer cliff the Kasatka was just over was _not_ amusing. Nor was it amusing when Max hit the edge of that cliff, leapt into the air, and snagged the very last rung on the ladder.

And Snake was at the end of his rope when he spied the smallest helicopter he'd ever seen catching up fast from their six.

"Otacon, we've got company!" Snack called, unsure whether Otacon would hear him better over the Codec or through the air with the noise from the chopper's rotors.

"Uh, Snake, I can't exactly man the guns and pilot at the same time!"

"Forgot," Snake muttered, climbing faster.

Max dropped out of turbo mode as soon as he caught the ladder, already feeling the effects of pushing it too much. "Berto, have you got the portable generator with you, by any chance?"

"Left it with Kat," Berto answered, "how much T-Juice you got?"

Looking at his Biolink and seeing he was dangerously low, Max gave an unconvincing "Uh... plenty!"

Berto certainly wasn't fooled. "Don't push it, Hermano! Hanging off a ladder a hundred feet in the air is bad enough as it is!"

"Oh, I don't plan to be hanging for long," Max assured him, already scrambling up to the chopper.

Snake dived onto the deck and grabbed the lone combat knife sitting on the sparse weapons rack. The terrorists had, of course, taken almost everything as soon as they'd disembarked onto the Big Shell, but an M4 rifle was left.

Knife in hand, Snake turned around to cut the ladder right off and give Max Steel one mother of a bath. Unfortunately, Max had already climbed up to the Kasatka and, still strong enough to do simple tasks, swung up onto the deck and kicked Snake right back to the rack.

Berto could just barely see the ensuing brawl as he approached in the Helifoil. It could only be called a brawl, Max and Snake were going for every hit they possibly could without flying out the missing wall of an enclosed space. There was just no room for being graceful. If one of them knocked into the pilot, then there would _really _be a problem.

"Damn persistent kids," Snake punched Max across the face. Several times. Max was no longer strong enough to take the blows in stride, but he _was_ strong enough to swing his own fist. He was too slow; Snake grabbed his arm and flung him hard into the back wall.

Deciding Max needed some direct help, Berto reached under his seat for the spare grapple gun and took aim. He didn't give himself time to think about what insanity he was about to attempt pulling, lest he chicken out. He just fired.

The grapple was on target as far as the Kasatka went, but there was precious little inside for it to latch onto and Berto had missed anything bolted to the hull. Intending fully to try again, he hit the retract button.

Snake registered this as another problem to deal with. "Otacon, keep her steady!"

From the corner of his eye, he saw his partner give thumbs up to show acknowledgment with minimal distraction, and he promptly pulled his M9 and put a tranquilizer in Max's head.

With that accomplished, he dropped the M9 to the deck in favor of his SOCOM. Taking cover behind the hull, Snake leaned out across the door and opened fire.

Acting on reflex, Berto banked the Helifoil to the side as soon as he saw the gun in Snake's hands, putting the armor plating between the bullets and his flesh. Snake's first few shots were misses, but the hits shook the entire craft and caused far more damage then a simple handgun should have; one went through an engine, and if the damage report on the dashboard didn't tell that, the smoke rising from the back would.

"What's that thing loaded with, Stinger missiles?" Berto cursed, maneuvering back into position for another try at boarding. One way or another, he was going to have to get the Helifoil to the ground very shortly.

Snake took aim, but Max, kept awake by the nanoprobes, pulled him to his feet and kicked him back against the wall before he could fire again. Caught completely off guard, Snake tried to bring his gun around, but Max would have none of this and tried to knock it from his hand.

Unwilling to drop his SOCOM, Snake managed to slip behind Max and shove him toward the rack. Max promptly grabbed the M4 and jammed the butt of the rifle into Snake's chest, but his withering strength didn't count for much.

The grapple from Berto flew into the chopper again, and this time it caught the top bar of the gun rack itself.

"Otacon!" Snake yelled, not really sure how he wanted the would-be pilot to solve the problem.

Way ahead of Snake, Otacon banked the Kasatka around, but Berto managed to keep the Helifoil flying alongside. He set it for an automatic landing in one minute, crossed himself, prayed he wasn't _completely_ insane to think he could pull this off, and hit the retract button on the grapple gun.

Looking behind Snake and seeing Berto fly through the air in his direction, Max dived to the side. Berto wasn't in the air long before the gun brought him aboard the Kasatka, but he didn't know how to stop himself and slammed right into Snake's back. In turn, Snake fell forward, and his forehead bounced off the bar on the rack.

Head spinning and eyes crossed, Snake fell flat on his back. Seeing this, Otacon flipped the auto pilot switch, grabbed the fire extinguisher from the cockpit and leapt into the cargo area yelling like a banshee on crack.

But Berto recognized what the M9 on the floor was; before Otacon could bean him, he snagged the tranquilizer from the deck, cocked it, and capped the engineer in the heart. Otacon passed out in mid-leap and hit the floor, snoring.

"Siddown, Kid," Snake's voice came. Berto turned his head in time to see Snake lunge, grab his leg, and twist.

Hearing his ankle snap in two, Berto cried out and crumpled to the floor.

Unrelenting, Snake grabbed the M9 when Berto dropped it and shot Max in the neck. Max couldn't stay awake this time, he was too low on energy for the Max Probes to fight the sedative off again, and he fell to the floor. The audio warning on his Biolink went off.

Snake forgotten, Berto tried to crawl over and flip the switch to power him down. But Snake, completely oblivious to his noble intentions, cocked the M9 and shot him with the last tranquilizer.

---


	3. Chapter III

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear Solid (or anything Metal Gear for that matter,) and I don't own Max Steel. My profit from this is an exact figure of zero dollars.

Metal Gears, Nanoprobes, and a Word from our Sponsor

Chapter III  
by Alhazred  
madarab20@hotmail.com  
http://www.rockettownonline.com/~alhazred  


All things considered, Berto thought he'd accomplished a lot. It wasn't easy to do much, he rationalized, with a broken ankle and your hands cuffed behind your back, but Snake had made the mistake of putting him to Max's _left _on the floor. From there, it was a simple matter to stretch over and engage the tracker on his Biolink. Snake hadn't handcuffed Max, apparently curious as to why he had yet to wake up from the tranquilizer. That worried Berto, it most certainly meant he was dangerously low on T-Juice if the Max Probes couldn't fight off a simple sedative.

It wasn't as simple to do it without being seen. Being a legend, Snake knew the most complicated rules of the job if he knew the simplest; one of the simplest being to _always_ keep an eye on your prisoners, even if not looking it.

Snake was good at the not-looking-it part, but Berto had been around Max long enough to notice these things. So he'd waited patiently and silently, not saying a word while Snake sat on the floor cross-legged several feet away, holding an icepack to his head, a laptop sitting open in front of him. He was tapping at keys every now and then, apparently going over what little he understood of the data they'd stolen from the old N-Tek systems before Otacon could break down all of it into Layman's Terms.

The tension could be sliced with a knife; Snake may not have known Josh and Max were the same person, but he most certainly recognized Berto himself. Still, no one said a word... until Berto saw his opportunity.

"Hey Otacon," Snake had said, his eyes not moving, "what's 'Transphasic Energy?'"

"_Trans_-phasic?" the scientist repeated, "as far as I know, just a theory... if that much..."

Berto let out an overly loud snicker, something that earned him a look from Snake. "What's it supposed to do?"

"Well, the theory is," Otacon thought about it, "if it worked, it'd be some funky ultra-clean power source for small electronics, you know, like a battery, but a transphasic battery would last a lot longer then the usual stuff. You could use it to power full scale nano-machines, power is the factor that limits ours to simple things like communication. Real revolutionary stuff, but it's always been a crock."

When Berto chuckled that time, Snake raised an eyebrow and turned back to glance at Otacon. Otacon, in turn, simply turned his head a little, because he was too busy piloting, and Berto hadn't wasted the opportunity to click that little button.

Of course, the only one that would see it was Kat, and that was if she was in the van. And considering they were currently _flying_, probably over the outskirts of Del Oro Bay, the possibility that she could bail them out was a small one.

With that thought on his mind, Berto looked back to his stricken comrade. Max's breathing had become shallower in the past few minutes, and Berto guessed he only _had_ a few minutes of energy left, at most. The cat was going to have to come out of the bag.

"Well hello, what's this," Snake's eyes lit up. He tossed the icepack away and grabbed a cigarette from his pocket. Puffing on the smoke, he spun the laptop around so Berto could see it. "I don't suppose _you'd_ care to explain."

The display showed a basic diagram of Max's Biolink interface. None of the functions were labeled, but Snake had obviously figured out that it was more then a cutting-edge PDA straight out of Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within. The fact that it was labeled as a classified document didn't help.

"Of course," Berto glowered. "It's a snow-cone maker."

Snake rolled his eyes and took a very long drag from his cigarette. "Great, one's comatose and one thinks he's Arnold Schwarzenegger."

Almost on cue, the audio warning on Max's Biolink beeped again. Snake's eyebrows went up. "Missing a hot date, is he?"

Seeing no other option, Berto scooted over and reached, making no attempt to hide his actions. Before Snake could threaten him, his finger touched the button he was looking for.

And Max Steel and his N-Tek gear dissolved in the usual glow of transphasic energy, leaving behind Josh McGrath in his usual assortment of every-day civilian clothes.

"Hmm," Snake tossed his cancer stick out the side of the chopper, watching it flutter, "well, _that_ figures."

"Whoa, cool," Otacon had to comment, leaning farther around his chair for a better view. The Kasatka suddenly took a sharp bank, threatening to dump everything and everyone out and to the ground far below.

Catching the laptop and his icepack before they dropped out into the wild blue yonder, Snake yelled, "Otacon!"

"Whoops, sorry!"

With that, the helicopter was shortly righted. Josh's eyes slid open a little and he tried to get up, but that was a far overstatement of the few centimeters he was able to move. Without the drain of being in Max mode, he could stay (barely) conscious, not to mention alive, but he wasn't going anywhere. Berto wondered if he was even aware of his surroundings. If Kat didn't pull off a miracle, he was going to have to spill the beans about everything and hope Snake and his partner were humane enough to let him get the portable generator.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the sound of an explosion and the Kasatka violently rocking around seemed to signify that _something_ was happening.

"What the hell was that?!" Snake demanded. Otacon struggled with the controls, trying desperately to regain balance.

"Felt like a Stinger," the scientist called back.

Throwing open the box on the wall that contained a flare gun and, naturally, some flares, Snake muttered a string of curses. Stinger missiles, he decided, weren't so useful when he was on the receiving end. On the one hand, they were light, easy to fire, and had enough of a yield to be the weapon of choice against large, bipedal tanks. On the other hand, they were so versatile that he did _not_ like being on the receiving end of them. The only advantage _was_ the minimal yield; it took just as long to take down aircraft with the thing as it did taking down Metal Gear.

Self-complaining done, Snake leaned out the door. Not far behind the Kasatka was the Helifoil, which was quickly becoming the most annoying little machine Snake had ever seen. Sure enough, the pilot had a Stinger launcher. And another missile headed his way.

"Works in the movies," Snake thought aloud, aiming the flare gun and pulling the trigger. The flare hit the missile perfectly on the nosecone, and did absolutely nothing to stop it. "Damn chemical-only flares..."

The missile hit, tossing Snake right back inside. Berto could've sworn those were some nasty obscenities Snake was muttering under his breath...

"We just lost an engine," Otacon yelled, "I gotta take her down!"

Snake looked back out the side; the Helifoil was nowhere in sight.

---

Kat had _almost_ been ready to brush the ninja off as either a crazy idiot or a fake leading her into a trap.

And then Max's locator went off over Del Oro Bay. _Over_ the bay. It wasn't bad enough that he apparently _was_ trouble, but he was getting in trouble while airborne as well. That worried her more then it used to, the air wasn't the safest place he could be with his constant power drains nowadays.

A quick call to Smith revealed that Max and Berto had taken the Helifoil after someone, and not five seconds later, the thing landed outside the van... damaged and without a pilot. Kat wasn't Berto, but it was a fairly simple matter to replace the damaged engine with the spare.

And that had been how she ended shooting down an attack helicopter with the Stinger launcher the Ninja had left while flying up behind it. Furthermore, it had been how she ended up landing in stealth mode and quietly climbing to the top of the Kasatka after her engines had been turned off. _Gotta thank Berto for adding the stealth to that thing..._

After a minute, Snake ventured out of the Kasatka, SOCOM held up as his eyes scanned the area. Kat took that moment to drop down in front of him and kick the gun from his hands.

Unlike Snake's fistfight with Max in the Kasatka, the outdoors provided plenty of room for the pair of fighters to completely cut loose. After leaping out of the cockpit to get a better view, Otacon decided it was definitely a better-then-anime moment.

"Hey," Josh slurred, "Izzat Kat kicking his butt?"

"Looks like it," Berto tossed out, not really paying attention to Josh as he pulled himself up against the bulkhead. His eye was on something else.

Kat, on the other hand, was not so excited. She wasn't going to be able to outfight Solid Snake and she knew it. She could see Max and Berto down for the count in the Kasatka; her original plan had been to provide a distraction long enough for them to get free, but she hadn't counted on them being unable to get _up._

She put that distraction part out of her head for the time being. It didn't stop Snake from seeing an opening, grabbing her arm and twisting her around; her back was to his chest a second later, arms pinned between them.

"I should warn you," Snake chuckled, holding her from struggling, "I've always felt compelled to hit on younger women."

"Yeah? Great pickup line, learn it from L'Etranger?" Kat rolled her eyes. "I prefer just plain _hitting._" She stomped on his foot. Snake swore a good one, and Kat spun on her heals and kicked him across the face.

Shaking his head and blinking a few times, Snake launched himself back at Kat as she went for his neck.

And then a gunshot rang out. Kat and Snake stopped dead and turned in time to see Berto hopping away from the Kasatka on his good leg, the forgotten SOCOM now leveled at Snake himself. "Can we all calm down now? Kat, have you got the generator?"

"Don't leave home without it," she snapped her fingers and dashed around the Kasatka to the Helifoil. Berto kept the gun steady; the laser sight made it heavier then the side arms he'd (briefly) used passing N-Tek's basic field training years ago, but that didn't deter him. He didn't actually think he could win any sort of fight with his ankle screaming in pain, but Snake was currently weaponless, and both he and Otacon were too far away to reach him before he could fire.

"Oh, uh, hey, Kid," Snake blinked, raising his hands slightly, "no hard feelings 'bout the ankle?"

"Right," Berto tilted his head. Then it hit him; one of Snake's hands was inching to his belt while his mouth provided a subtle distraction, inching toward what was probably a smoke or flash grenade. The laser sight of the SOCOM pointing between Snake's feet, Berto pulled the trigger. "Don't."

"Hmm, not bad," commented Snake.

To the side, Otacon pushed his glasses up. "Snake, why do I get the feeling you're not the only espionage expert here?"

Berto forgotten for the moment, Snake gave Otacon a look. "I dunno Otacon, I've gotten that feeling since people in optic camouflage started following me while I followed Vamp."

Holding back a chuckle, Berto kept silent. Watching and learning through Max only went so far, _certainly_ not to the expert level, but they didn't need to know that.

---

Josh equated a massive power drain with going to bed at three in the morning, getting up before six, and having had no food for a few days. It wasn't entirely the _worst_ feeling in the world, mostly because he was too weak to actually _feel_ it.

The portable generator fed him transphasic energy like a drug, but it felt more subtle then that. Usually, however, being on the floor of a Russian helicopter with one _major_ crick in the neck and someone checking your pulse was not a subtle thing.

"How you feeling, Hermano?"

"I dunno," Josh blinked, "gimmie a metaphor that means 'really bad.'"

"A frog in a well knows not of the sea?" someone outside said. This was immediately followed by a groan that was most definitely from Snake. "Hey, I got it right! I think."

The memory of Snake returning brought Josh completely out of la-la-land, and he was quick to pull himself to his feet. Any other time, Berto would've protested his insistence to even _think_ about moving so soon after his recovery, but there were still things to be taken care of.

At least, he thought there was. The sight outside the Kasatka was a little surreal, with Snake and Otacon standing several feet away, the latter holding Snake's icepack to his own head. Kat was leaning against the helicopter, Snake's SOCOM in one hand and both eyes on her prisoners.

"So, sleeping beauty's awake, huh?" Snake raised an eyebrow.

Shoving an elbow into his ribs, Otacon hissed, "Snake, don't make them mad!"

Snake just laughed. "Hey, so she smacked you with my gun, Otacon. It's not _my_ fault you tried to tackle her. Enjoy your first concussion. I remember my first... no, of course I don't. If I remembered it, it wouldn't be a concussion."

"That's what makes me nervous," Otacon grumbled.

"Quiet," Snake's head twitched ever so slightly and he raised a hand, suddenly looking serious.

Kat looked over their new prisoners. "It's worse then looking in a mirror."

A 'shhh!' came from Josh; Kat and Berto stared at him, his face turning sour as his eyes darted around, the fatigue from his recent drain forgotten for the moment. Apparently, he'd caught on to whatever had thrown Snake off. But Josh was closer to what spooked them. Snake didn't have the proximity to pin it down with normal hearing. Josh doubted he would have noticed himself without his enhanced senses, but he turned around and looked across the Kasatka's hull. Then he looked _up._

Acting on his sense, Josh crouched down, leapt from the grass, and reached up. His hand snagged something on top of the Kasatka, something that didn't look like it was _there;_ or someone with optic camouflage.

Josh fell flat on his back when he pulled, the distortion from the stealth falling over him and rolling on the grass to a crouch. The stealth dropped, revealing the ninja Kat had seen earlier.

With Otacon jumping back in fright, Snake decided he needed another cigarette and promptly lit one. "God, not _another_ one."

"Not bad," the ninja rose and dusted itself off, "how did you know?"

"Heard metal on metal," Snake took a puff.

"Heard your heartbeat," Josh added.

Not really phased by this impossible feat, the ninja went on. "You may all be interested to know that the family whose property you have landed on has just arrived home. I suggest you all shake hands and leave before they call the authorities."

Cloaking again, the ninja jumped off, leaving behind a group of highly perplexed people.

Taking the last drag from his cigarette, Snake commented, "They just get more cryptic every time, don't they?"

"Yep," Otacon said. "So. Um... maybe we should stop trying to kill each other?"

Josh made a face. "You've been shooting at us all day and _now_ you want to be friends?"

Snake, on the other hand, was used to Otacon saying absurd things like that lately. At least he'd stopped trying to dish out proverbs since Mei Ling gave him a good talking-to. "Hey, self defense. Shoot me in the leg if you want."

"Yeah!" Otacon added, sounding every bit like a geek with no confrontational skills, "_we_ didn't know you weren't _really_ connected to Vamp!"

Turning to him, Snake crossed his neck with a finger and made a violent sort of a 'shhh!' sound. Otacon flinched and turned beet-red.

"Vamp, huh?" Berto picked up on this train of thought. "Vamp, the former Navy SEAL, member of the 'Dead Cell' training squad, went rogue and aided in the terrorist action that destroyed the Big Shell in the lower New York Harbor a few months ago which led to the debris washing onto shore and trashing Federal Hall? Dubious connections to Ex-president George Sears, a.k.a. Solidus Snake, survivor of the 'Les Effants Terribles' project? _That_ Vamp?"

Snake blinked. Then he wondered if it _was_ a good thing that he hadn't broken the kid's neck. "How did you know all that?"

Berto just winced. "Because I'm a genius. A genius in _pain,_ I might add."

"You science guys," Snake shook his head, "I'd hate to see you and Otacon get shot and actually _need_ hospitalization."

Kat and Josh were equally stupefied; Berto had no time they knew of between reading the book and now to look into Snake's business as Kat had suggested.

But it reminded Kat of something. She handed him the optical disc the ninja had given her. "Speaking of which, Mr. Resident Genius, here ya go."

"I _hate_ this format," Berto turned the disc over in his hands. "I'll need my equipment back at the van to see what's on it."

"Let me guess," Snake rolled his eyes, "the ninja gave it to you?"

At Kat's nod, Otacon started to wonder. "They just get worse. Snake, do we know the ninja this time? I've lost track."

"Actually, I was hoping _you_ did. Great, more mysteries," Snake answered.

Shouting came from a nearby hill. Snake looked around and took in the surroundings for the first time since landing. Otacon had brought the Kasatka down in the middle of a _farm,_ and the farm owners up yonder weren't amused. "Where are we, anyway?"

Digging in his pockets, Berto answered, "good question. Better question, how do we deal with being here with military equipment and a Russian helicopter."

But he already had the answer, and quickly dialed the number after finding his phone. "Jefferson! Hi! It's Martinez!"

Josh made a face and covered his ears when Berto held the phone out at arm's length, his father's shouting _very _audible. He distinctly caught things like "what the hell happened!" and "where's Josh!" and "#%@&*!"

Much to Josh's gratefulness, Berto didn't pass the phone over to him. "Right, right... yeah, hey, we're fine, we're all fine. Everything's fine! No, really! You _have_ a lie detector built into your phone, how could this be coerced? Yeah, listen, can we... um, that is to say, _Josh_ is wondering if we could borrow the Behemoth for, say... ten minutes?"

Franticly waving for Berto to _shut up,_ Josh lost all hope of seeing his next paycheck once Berto hung up the line. "_More_ fuel coming out of my salary..."

---

A full _twenty _minutes later, the Behemoth was finally flying away after having nicely airlifted the Kasatka to the parking lot next to Team Steel's van. Josh watched the mammoth plane fly away, a sullen expression on his face. _If my cause of death isn't listed as 'wrath of Dad,' I'll be surprised._

"We're just gonna leave it here?" Snake asked. "Maybe I'm getting old, but a Russian helicopter in the middle of a sports arena looks... a _little_ out of place."

"Nah," Berto waved him off, "lots of teams have eccentric transportation. Like us. We just register you for it and say it's the civilian model."

Josh shook his head. "Later, Bro. You need a trip to the medics."

"Don't remind me."

"I'll take 'em," Snake volunteered. It seemed only fair, after all.

Horrified by this, Berto tried to hop away, not an easy task while with Josh holding him up. "What, why, so you can break my _other_ ankle?"

"I was being nice," Snake crossed his arms. "I could've broken your neck."

The younger scientist decided to shut his mouth.

"_I'll_ take him," Josh said.

Kat shot him a look. "You're just _leaving_ me with the Peanut Gallery?"

Slightly flustered, Otacon let out a huff. "I resent that!"

---

"Well well well, Bloodsucker's already here, eh?"

Kicking off the side of the desk and giving his coat a dramatic _swoosh,_ Vamp regarded the man that was walking down the office toward him. "Nice to see you too, Psycho."

"It's always nice to see me," Psycho stopped just short of the large, U-shaped desk, the chair in the center turned so the man sitting in it could watch the wall monitors, and not be seen himself. "I just have one of those _nice, pleasant faces._"

For the tenth time since meeting him, Vamp looked Psycho over. No matter how many times he saw the metal of Psycho's face, the smile always got to him. "With gnashing molars."

Psycho's claw came down his arm, and he promptly leveled it at Vamp's neck. "This from the Anne Rice reject?"

"Boys, do play nice," their current employer scolded. His hand reached over to the desk and picked up a glass of wine. "Didn't your parents teach you to be quiet when someone's on the phone?"

"What're parents?" Psycho backed off, and Vamp didn't try to antagonize him further.

The center monitor on the wall changed to receive the incoming transmission, and the old but far from decrepit man on the other end turned his head toward the camera. "Hey, Boss."

"Ahh, Revolver Ocelot at last. I was getting tired of hearing tirades from my brother. Gotten Liquid under control, I assume?"

"For the moment," the gunslinger answered. "He's still digging at my head. You Snakes are a tough crowd, you know."

The wineglass shattered from an over-exerted hand. "You take risks, Ocelot."

"Yes," Ocelot agreed, a small grin on the side of his mouth. "From the rather noticeable ability to crush glass in your bare hands and bleed only a few drops, it looks like the nano probes are working."

"For the most part, yes. My eye is better then new, though there were some unexpected... pigmentation issues with it. Nevertheless, I almost have the probes ready to exorcise my brother from you."

Ocelot clearly enjoyed this news. "Splendid. I look forward to having that idiot forcibly removed. I hope it hurts. Him."

"Indeed," was the answer, followed by the _click_ of a remote. "Oh, and some friends have been pestering me all day to have a word or three with you."

A picture-in-picture window popped up on the transmission, patching another caller in.

"Ocelot! Why have you betrayed us!" The image of Roy Campbell demanded.

"Oh, you," Ocelot deadpanned. His gazed turned back to the chair's occupant. "Can't you delete them yet?"

"I'm afraid not. We have yet to determine the exact location the program is stored at. It doesn't matter, their influence is cut off, just a loose end to tie up."

The AI image switched to a young woman with long, dark hair. "You wouldn't dare touch us, your society _depends_ on us!"

The Colonel came back. "Without us, you will have only anarchy!"

"Which is precisely what we _want_," Psycho rolled his metal eyes. "Stupid computers. Does _anything ever **compute**?_"

The remote clicked again, cutting the AI off from the transmission. "Ocelot, take RAY back, there simply isn't any other place to hide it. Then meet with Vamp and Psycho, it's time to draw our friends out into the fire."

"Right," Ocelot nodded, cutting the transmission.

Vamp pulled a knife from his belt and, playing his part of the classic vampire, ran the blade down his tongue. His own blood, however, was decidedly less appetizing then that of other people. "So you've chosen a site, King?"

"Of course," 'King' answered. "Quite a convenient one. A Mexican fertilizer plant near the Texas border."

"Fertilizer? Sounds a bit... _lame,_ Boss," Psycho answered. "How do you expect me to work off stress on fertilizer?"

"Yes, fortunately there _is_ no fertilizer plant," King added, much to Psycho's relief. "It's a converted factory, currently poorly guarded and being used to build one of the many Metal Gear REX clones floating around. The United States government knows this. The Mexicans _know_ that we know, but we pretend that we _don't_ know, and _they_ pretend that _they_ don't know that _we_ know... but know that we know. Everyone knows. And the three of you are going to make sure Mr. Steel, my brother, and their associates will know _very_ shortly."

---

"I hate casts," Berto sighed, watching the doctor finish wrapping the one around his ankle.

"The break is only a simple hairline fracture, Mr. Martinez," the medic rolled her eyes, glancing back to the x-rays. Berto didn't care for female physicians, either; in his experience, they usually hated male patients. "You'll be on your feet in no time. How did you _do_ this, anyway? I usually don't see managers in here."

"Um," Berto stammered. He and Josh had completely forgotten to come up with an excuse.

"We got mugged," Josh jumped in. "Yeah... guys jumped us right in broad daylight..."

"And they went after your _ankle_?"

Throwing his best pity-me smile, Berto answered, "they attacked us at 4:00pm, I think they were pretty weird already."

The doctor conceded. "I suppose that's a good point. What would you like for a crutch, wood or metal?"

Berto didn't hesitate. "Metal."

Slowed by Berto's top speed set a hobble, the pair began the process of heading back to the parking lot where Team Steel's van sat next to a damaged Russian helicopter under the growing twilight. The funny thing was, Berto had been telling the truth; the D.O.X. _had_ seen stranger.

"So, where to from here, Hermano?"

"Good question, Bro," Josh wondered, "let's see, we've got a freak vampire... thing hanging around here, a legend at the van... one who happened to break your ankle."

His crutch almost sounding more distinct against the ground, Berto groaned. "Don't remind me. Actually, yes, remind me; remind me not to point guns at people and make them mad? Anyway, I still have to go over that disc Kat gave me, see what's up."

Josh frowned. "You know what rubs me the wrong way? Someone's been _shoving_ us toward our... new acquaintances. Remember the book? The ninja is one of _Snake's_ old ghosts, but he came to _us._"

That led to a corollary Berto picked up on. "What're the odds that we start seeing Vamp with, oh... Vitriol, Smiley, etcetera?"

"Pretty good, I'd say," Josh said. Motion up ahead caught his eye; he zoomed in for a better look. "Kat!"

He broke into a run, leaving Berto to fend for himself. "Josh, what!"

But he didn't really hear Berto; all of his attention was focused on the scene in front. Snake, Kat, and blows being exchanged suddenly made him feel like a complete and utter fool for leaving her with a pair of "terrorists" that had shot at her only hours earlier.

Snake heard the sound cue when he went into Max mode, turned, and gave a good "huh?"

And Kat promptly hopped into the air and kicked him flat on his back. Max skidded to a stop, looking her over for injuries. "Are you alright?"

"Of course," she cracked her knuckles. "Intricate plans coming together, such satisfaction."

"So _that's_ why you said 'no pads,'" Snake stood up. He and Kat bowed to each other. "Nice."

The look on Max's face as he powered down was priceless. "You were _sparring?_"

"Yep," Kat put a hand to her head and cracked her neck. "Thanks for the distraction, always the best way to break someone's concentration."

"She's gonna give you a run for your codename, Snake," Otacon called down from his ladder. He gave the Kasatka's engine one last look, closed the cowling, and sulked on his way down.

"How is it?" Snake raised an eyebrow. A boom of thunder rang in the distance, and the first drops of rain began to fall.

Turning toward the chopper, Otacon pointed his finger like a gun at the engines, pressed his thumb down, and annunciated a nice gunshot. "That answer your question? I hate Stingers."

"Yep," Snake chuckled, "We break your ankle, you blow us out of the sky... at least we're even."

"I hardly think Kamov helicopters feel pain," Berto glared at him from a good fifteen feet away, not quite caught up to Josh yet.

"Right, so," Josh spoke up before anyone could make anyone else mad again, "you guys know Vamp, right? Care to enlighten us?"

"Sure," Snake looked up at the sky just in time for a large raindrop to splash him in the face just below the bandana. "Can we do it inside? I'm fresh out of cold medicine."

"Fine by me," Berto added, not eager to grow ill again either. Kat held the van's door open for him while he hopped up the steps.

---

The ref list:

-Snake's comment about Berto quoting Arnold is referring to True Lies.

-Snake's line about not remembering concussions is a variant of a line from Babylon 5.

-King's spiel about the fertilizer plant is from Under Siege 2: Dark Territory.

-Otacon pulls a Casey Jones of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fame when asked about the Kasatka.


	4. Chapter IV

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear Solid (or anything Metal Gear for that matter,) and I don't own Max Steel. My profit from this is an exact figure of zero dollars.

Metal Gears, Nanoprobes, and a Word from our Sponsor

Chapter IV  
by Alhazred  
madarab20@hotmail.com  
http://www.rockettownonline.com/~alhazred  


"This is going to be _patheticly_ easy."

"You have no appreciation for the art, my friend," Vamp regarded Psycho with a grin, a knife playing between his fingers. "Enjoy it. Rarely do... people of our caliber _have_ a job so easy that we can relax."

"On the contrary, Fangs," Psycho's claw folded out and flexed a little, "I appreciate it a lot. There's just _no relaxation_ when there's _no challenge;_ even _you_ can't possibly want _that_ much target practice instead of something challenging to throw a blade at."

Vamp cocked his head. He hated to admit it, but Psycho _did_ have a point. "Touché."

The sound of Ocelot's Colt spinning on his finger and _thudding_ into the holster sounded against their voices. His right arm twitched for a brief moment, stopping when he clamped his other hand on it. "Let's just get this over with. Vamp, you said you wanted the roof."

"And so I do."

With that, Vamp turned, ran exactly two steps, and leapt into the air. His coat fanning out behind, he soared into the sky almost as if he were flying, completely unhindered by gravity until just above the roof.

His stunt got the attention of the guard at the front gate. Ocelot shot him as he walked outside of his station.

Once on the roof, Vamp took a quick look around; there were a pair of security guards walking around here, but they had knives sticking out of their heads before they even turned toward the sound of his landing.

Downstairs, Psycho had already finished crushing the front door guard to death with his claw. Ocelot was happy to walk in rather nonchalantly once his cyborg compatriot had thrown the fresh corpse through the doors.

As far as he was concerned, the game was on.

---

"In the name of God, impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation. Amen."

Berto finally gave in to the temptation to look at what was on the TV screen. _"What_ are you watching, anyway?"

The rain had turned into a full-fledged thunderstorm outside, and the wind would occasionally rock the van a little. Fortunately, it was soundproof. All of the noise was coming from the inside. Otacon, however, didn't mind. "It's Hellsing, and I happen to enjoy it. Not much of an foreign film fan, are you?"

"Films, yes," answered Berto. He went back to typing at his laptop, trying to ignore Otacon at the other end of the table. "Animation, no. What are you doing, anyway?"

"I'm hacking into Amazon.com," the engineer raised a fist, but lowered it before he could smash his keyboard to bits, "and trying to find a replacement engine for the Kasatka I can pilfer. And don't you _dare_ lecture me on stealing, I have quite enough people thinking I'm a terrorist for blowing up Metal Gears as it is."

Berto raised his hands in defense. "Hey, I didn't say a word!"

"Sorry," Otacon pushed his glasses up, "I don't take criticism as well these days."

And Berto just had to know. "How are you going to find parts for a Russian military aircraft on the Internet?"

"Civilian model, same thing." Otacon's eyes lit up; the joy on his face was more apparent then if he'd screamed "eureka!" Apparently, he'd found what he was looking for.

"You know, you should've let me look at it," Berto went on typing, fed up with the encryption levels on the optical disc. It was all in the hands of his own personal hacking apps now, but at least a quarter of the disc's space was dedicated to encryption protocols and it was an annoyingly sluggish process. "I probably could've fixed it."

Otacon's answer was a muted laugh. "I think that'd be a little out of your league."

"Oh really," Berto grew furious in the span of one-point-five seconds. A good old-fashioned brawl of intellect with another scientist was always a welcome challenge. Especially if it was with the kind that had developed a reflex for looking down upon his younger peers. "This coming from the guy that thinks Transphasics is a crock!"

"It _is_ a crock!" Otacon insisted, glaring at the younger man over his laptop. "Just because it worked _once_ doesn't mean it's sound!"

Thinking of a particularly nasty comeback, Berto jabbed his finger in Otacon's direction. "And I suppose _everyone_ who designs things has absolutely _no idea_ what they're for until it gets to the point where millions of lives could be lost?"

"That's a low blow!" Otacon jumped to his feet and pointed right back. "Besides, at least I meet women in my line of work!"

"So do I!" Berto shouted back. Rachel and Kat counted, as far as he was concerned. Heck, so did Dragonelle.

"That like me!" added Otacon.

Caught without a response, Berto forcibly stared back at his screen and typed more. Accusing the other party of lying never got anywhere, and he couldn't very well invent girlfriends that he'd never had. Rather, he muttered an insult with profoundly unforeseen consequences. "Su madre no cuenta, usted demented otaku."

Otacon's eyebrows pivoted downward, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes looked like windows into Hell itself.

---

"Va al infierno usted excusa apesadumbrada para un ingeniero!"

"What in God's name is going on," Kat yawned, peering out of her room. The dark circles under her eyes were very profuse.

"Hah, usted primero, muchacho nuclear!"

That was most certainly Berto's voice, and it was definitely coming from the living room. So Kat shambled in the direction. The slider into Josh's room had been open in the first place, and Snake was just rising from the place on the floor Josh had generously offered, away from Berto's supposed snoring. That would've meant more if Berto hadn't pulled an Otacon and failed to notice it was long past bedtime.

Snake followed after Kat, and not long after, Josh followed _him._ The sight that greeted the trio was a wholly mind-numbing one. At one end of the table stood Berto, propped up by his crutch, at the other end stood Otacon, his veins popping out of his neck.

"Mayo su de las ecuaciones cálculo nunca correctamente!" Otacon smashed his fists on the table.

Berto, in turn, banged the end of his crutch on the floor and pointed at his nemesis. "Tu madre es un hámster!"

"I didn't know Berto could _talk_ like that," said Kat.

His face unchanging from the fatigue of being woken out of a sound sleep by the yelling, Snake added, "I didn't know Otacon could speak Spanish. Japanese, maybe."

Raising his laptop over his head, Otacon yelled, "muerte, infiel!"

In response, Berto tossed his crutch up, caught the bottom, brandished it like a baseball bat, and screamed "voy a golpear su cabeza adentro, y no significo el que esta' en sus hombros!"

When Berto swung his improvised weapon down and put a dent in the table, Josh understood why he'd asked for a _metal_ crutch. Otacon's laptop fell out of his hands and he dived out of the path of another swing. Unfortunately, he ended up diving into Kat, sending the two of them toppling to the floor.

"You are so lucky I'm tired," Kat blinked, shoving the engineer away.

Meanwhile, Berto's momentum carried his blunt object on a trajectory that doubled as a collision course for Snake's head. Deciding he didn't want to deal with a headache at the moment, Snake raised an arm and caught said blunt object in his hand. "You're just _begging_ me to break the other one, aren't you?"

Berto tossed a fairly weak smile. Still on the floor, Otacon called out, "Peda sa rynt, oui hyhu vnayg!"

"That's not even Spanish," Berto glared down.

"Okay, I think it's time for bed, guys," Josh scratched his head. He grabbed Otacon under the arms, and Kat, agreeing with this course of action, assisted him by grabbing the engineer's legs.

"Hey!" Otacon protested, to no avail.

Seeing all of this, Snake caught on. Still holding onto it, he took Berto's crutch away from him, picked him up, and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. The words Berto yelled at him in Spanish sounded fairly nasty.

After the other two had deposited Otacon on the floor of Berto's room, Snake deposited Berto himself on the bunk. The three of them dashed out and flung the slider closed before either of them could even stand up, and Kat, in a highly abrasive fashion, proceeded to jam the slider like that with Berto's crutch.

More expletives followed from inside the room, but no one cared.

"Now," Snake announced, "we sleep."

"I hear that," Josh said.

Berto and Otacon grew louder, but they were, for the moment, ignored as Kat and Josh flopped down onto their respective beds, and Snake resumed his lying on Josh's floor.

After five minutes, however, Snake decided that the noise was far too much for his own tastes, and he closed the slider. The absurd noises coming from elsewhere in the van were further blotted out, and Snake resumed the fetal position on the floor.

"You know," Josh considered, "they're going to start asking if Vamp's rubbed off on us if that's closed."

Snake just yawned. "Good for them. They're making so much noise we can say even _more_." He let out a sigh. "Geeks..."

More thumping echoed through the van, followed by the sound of Kat hitting the wall and her voice yelling, "Shut up in there, will ya!"

"That's _quite _an image," Josh flopped onto his bed. "So why do _you_ do it?"

"What?" Snake blinked, knowing instantaneously what Josh meant. "Why does _everybody_ ask that? Why are _you_ asking me this at four in the morning?"

"Professional curiosity?" Josh chuckled. "I dunno, maybe I'm just _that _tired."

"Same reason you do what _you_ do, Kid," Snake rolled over and sat against the wall, determining that between this and the war of the nerds going on, he wasn't going to get back to sleep right away. "At least, I _assume_ you do it because you think it's right. And I wouldn't mind knowing how those little tricks of yours work."

"Tricks? Hey," Josh pouted, "I'd like to see _you_ punch through a few tons of solid rock."

"You know, back in my day," Snake started. His voice faded, and he mouthed the words over a few times. "I can't believe I just said that. Back in _the_ day, we had to get things done without a fancy gimmick."

"Is that so, _Solid Snake?_"

"That's not a _gimmick_, that's a _code name,_" Snake retorted.

Josh considered that. "Good point. But it's not like it makes life easier, it just means terrorists start equipping themselves better in retaliation. You don't _want_ to know what it feels like to get blasted with an EMP when your nanomachines keep you alive."

"Maybe," Snake conceded. "But then, Otacon and I _have_ nanomachines and we don't jump twenty feet into the air or get up from underneath very _large_ steel girders. So, you run out of... that energy I can barely pronounce, you die. My dose of FOXDIE kicks in, I die. I think it's well established that no matter what, this line of work gets you killed."

"You're never worried it'll all come down to something important, and you'll drop dead right there?" Josh asked. He wasn't entirely sure he could deal with that.

His eyes were on the wall, but Snake's mind drifted to another time, another place. "No, I can't die yet. There are too many things I have to do. After that, we'll see."

"I think the same thing," Josh chuckled. "All the time. Who says the old generation has nothing in common with the new?"

Snake glared daggers. "Who are you calling 'old?'"

Wasting no time in shifting his gaze back to the ceiling, Josh made a face and answered, "no one."

"Good boy," Snake nodded. He peered around the room when Berto and Otacon started shouting at each other again, Josh's expression becoming worse.

"Does Otacon kiss his mother with that mouth?" the athlete chuckled.

"Actually ye- wait, you can make that out?" Snake's eyebrows went up. "Got a directional microphone handy?"

Throwing a smile, Josh replied, "nope, just good ol' fashioned nanotech."

"Funny, Otacon's d. mics kept getting feedback when we pointed 'em at you."

Josh sat up so fast he banged his head on the ceiling. "Ow! You've been pointing _directional microphones_ at my head?"

"Well we didn't want to hear your heartbeat," Snake blinked, "we wanted to hear what was coming out of your mouth."

Rubbing his head behind the ear without even realizing it, Josh answered, "no wonder I've been getting migraines. You've been making _feedback_ in my nanoprobes!"

"So that's what that annoying buzzing sound was," Snake said. "Gimmick backfiring, eh?"

Suddenly remembering all of his recent power drains, Josh answered, "are you kidding? It's been backfiring ever since the Feds handed my Dad a cease & desist order for N-Tek's espionage division."

"The FBI did _what?_ But the _NSA_ is the only... and you'd have top level to shut down... black ops..." Snake trailed off. The implication was frightening. Had N-Tek been _that_ close to something?

"What?" Josh prodded.

"You ever hear of the 'Patriots,' Kid?"

Josh's eyebrow went up. "Not until I read Romanenko's book..."

So much for sleep, Snake thought. "Well, first of all, that stuff on the news a few months ago about the Big Shell washing ashore is _total_ crap..."

---

"So this ninja, Ya'know," Otacon said, his laptop making a cheerful Windows 'ding!' sound. "Hey, I'm in. So it was Snake's old war buddy, you know, he just _throws_ me in this locker while he and Snake start hitting each other."

He did, of course, leave out the part about wetting himself. The black eye and bandage on his forehead made it easy to look like he was in pain, rather then lying through his teeth.

Berto's blatant off-color spots lined his cheek instead, in the form a distinct, hand-shaped red area. The bandage _here_ was on Berto's hand, right behind the knuckles, where what looked like a bite mark seemed to be peeking through one side.

"I was lucky to be a lab rat," Berto raised an eyebrow at the information his screen was displaying. "I met Josh while he was dying just after getting the Max Probes, all I had to do was push a button. Heh heh, one time he took out a ninja with a waffle iron, right? Kat was calling him 'Jackie Chan' for a week!"

The uproar of laughter woke Kat up once more. Seeing that it was now daylight, she got dressed in record time and promptly stormed out of her room. "Will you people_ please_ shut the hell... up?"

Things just kept getting weirder and weirder. Aside from their... wounds, Otacon and Berto looked completely normal, sitting at the table again, working at their laptops. Otacon looked at her and pushed his glasses up. "Jeez, we're just sharing old war stories."

"Yeah," Berto agreed. "Hey Kat, you remember the time Max bonked that ninja with the waffle iron?"

"Sooooo," Kat blinked, "you're done killing each other?"

"Yep," Berto went back to his work.

"We got it out of our system," Otacon added. "Hey, our engine should be here in about ten minutes."

"And my decryption programs just got the disc open," Berto cracked his knuckles. "Now, let's see what's on here..."

"Techies, can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em," Kat said to herself. "So. Where're the others?"

"Outside," Berto answered.

Otacon closed his laptop. "Working out their daily buildup of testosterone."

Equally interested in the contests of the ninja's disk, Otacon assumed an optimal reading-over-shoulder position behind Berto.

Making a vague swirling motion next to her head with one finger, Kat turned around and went outside.

The sight of Josh and Snake sparring was, at least, somewhat normal. _Poor Josh, he's gotten knocked down so many pegs lately... heh heh..._

Josh was having about as much luck against Snake as she had the night before, though he was faring better then that rather disastrous incident in the old transphasic generator.

"So this Arsenal Gear thing," Josh asked, putting two and two together, his forearm coming up to stop Snake's punch at the elbow, "_that_ was what ran aground and busted up Federal Hall?"

"Yep," Snake answered, crouching down to avoid Josh's roundhouse kick. "And the highest-ranking Patriots have been dead for a century."

"Psycho's been dead four... five," Josh counted, throwing a kick to Snake's midsection. Snake caught his foot. "Seven times, I think it is now, and _he's_ still around."

"My genetic twin lives in Revolver Ocelot's arm," Snake tossed Josh's leg up, sending him into an involuntary back flip, but Josh managed to land on his feet. "Trust me, I know death is just a minor setback these days."

Snake lunged, but Josh flung his arms down and flipped into the air just high enough to clear Snake's head and land behind him. Having a pretty good idea of what the other's next move would be, Snake hopped off the ground just as Josh's leg tried to sweep him from his feat. Landing before Josh fully recovered, Snake rammed his shoulder into Josh's chest, the force of his weight sending the latter to the edge of the lawn where it dropped off into the pond.

Stumbling at the sudden change of slope, Josh was powerless to stop Snake from poking him. He promptly fell backward, bounced off the little pier Kat had knocked him off of not long ago, and splashed down.

Kat herself found this extraordinarily humorous, and couldn't stop herself when Josh's head poked out of the water, something vaguely resembling crabgrass matting down his hair and oozing its way down his head. "I seem to recall you being in this situation before, McGrath. I guess you haven't improved much since then?"

Plucking the offending vegetation from his head, Josh glared daggers at her. "Gee, thanks for returning the distraction favor, Kat."

Snake just cracked his knuckles. "Want some cheese with that whine, Kid?"

A smirk played across Josh's face, and he sunk back underwater. A light green glow shimmered on the surface for a second, and Kat realized what he was about to do. "Don't you _dare..._"

Unfortunately for her, Max Steel soon leapt out of the pond, dragging as much water with him as he possibly could. Snake's reflexes got him out if the way, but Kat got drenched.

"If I didn't just wake up," she decided as Max powered down, "I would kill you."

Before he could respond, the sound of an engine got their attention. Otacon came outside to meet the UPS truck as if he were expecting it. Less then a minute later, the truck was pulling away, leaving a _very_ large box on the pavement.

"Otacon," Snake started, "do I even _want_ to know?"

"It's just the new engine for the Kasatka," the engineer raised his eyebrows. He practically tore the top of the massive box off and dove into the Styrofoam peanuts.

"And... you signed for this how?" Snake said.

"With a little squiggle on the dotted line," Otacon answered, standing back up. He rummaged through the peanuts one more time when he realized his glasses had fallen off. "Like they ever look for an actual name?"

"And you're going to lift that onto the chopper yourself?" Kat scratched her head.

Looking from the Kasatka to the heavy engine and back, Snake and Otacon let out a perfectly synchronized sigh.

"Hey," Josh turned into Max once more. "All ya gotta do is ask."

---

"This is deep," Berto decided. The disc may not have been filled to capacity, but it was filled with intrigued. "Complete schematics on Metal Gear RAY and Arsenal Gear, complete research data on FOXDIE and Naomi Hunter's alterations... whoa."

And it made absolutely _no sense._ He understood the data easily enough, but the reasoning... why did they _need_ this? Okay, it told him the Big Shell conspiracy theory floating around on the Internet was true, but Snake could've easily told him that. And FOXDIE...

Then he remembered Romanenko's book, and bolted out of his chair. Limping over to Kat's modest bookshelf, he dug out In the Darkness of Shadow Moses one more time and re-read the ending. A light bulb went off above his head. FOXDIE was simple by its nature, and the data on the disc defined the perimeters that identified it. A small number of Josh's Max Probes, some modification to disable their reproduction systems while seeing those perimeters as a virus... and Solid Snake would be cured.

A _beep_ from his laptop brought Berto back into the realm of reality, and once he saw the screen, he wasted no time in opening Jefferson's e-mail.

Message read and processed, he grabbed his crutch and limped out the door, only to be greeted by the sight of Max and Otacon balancing against the Kasatka on a single ladder, Kat trying to hold it steady for them. Otacon made one last tweak to the new engine, and called down, "Snake, try it now!"

Inside the cockpit, Snake did just that. Immediately, the engines flared to life and the rotors started spinning smoothly. Hearing this, Snake shut it off.

Max hopped down from the ladder, and Berto wasted no time in dragging his teammates inside.

"Good as new!" Otacon chirped, tossing his wrench to himself after climbing down.

"Where are _they_ off to in a such a hurry," Snake wondered, watching Josh practically _carry_ Berto back into the van. He and Otacon shared a look and a shrug before following them.

Team Steel in its entirety was, in fact, hunched right over Berto's laptop, looking at what was most certainly mission data.

"Fertilizer plant, Mexico, terrorists... why'd Dad send this to _us,_" Josh asked.

"I'll give you one guess," Berto answered, bringing up the attachment that had been sent on the e-mail. It was an image taken by a security camera, and a poor one at that. Someone was walking in the background, but the face was too blurry to make out. The man in the foreground was _too_ close for his face to be in the shot, but the metal of his right arm was a dead giveaway.

Josh and Kat almost hit the roof. _"Psycho!"_

Snake and Otacon just watched from the side, more then a little amused that they weren't the ones going bonkers over the hideous absurdities in their jobs this time.

"Can you figure out who the other guy is, Berto?" Kat squinted at the picture.

"Been running an enhancement since the mail came in," Berto brought up another window, this one displaying the enhanced image and the collected data. "Look's like it's already ran through the database. Whoa-ho! Real name unknown, alias: Shalashaska, aka Revolver-!"

"Ocelot!" Snake and Otacon yelled. They were trying to shove Max and Kat away less then a second later, desperate for the information.

"Where is that!" demanded Otacon.

"_Down_ boys," Kat replied. She gestured to Berto's screen. "This involves us too. We'll share. Um... _will_ we share?"

"I don't see why not," Max added. "Smiley's enough trouble as it is, I'm not eager to add the celebrities of Shadow Moses without help."

Snake tilted his head a little. "Let's get one thing straight, Kid. _You_ are helping_ me._"

Max's eyebrows went up. "How is that different?"

"Because I'm the veteran, and I _like_ that fact," Snake crossed his arms.

"It is _so_ too early for male egos," Kat yawned. Rubbing her eyes, she had a thought. "So, how are we gonna do this? Helifoil only holds two. Think that bucket of bolts of a Kamov'll actually get into the air?"

"We _did_ just fix it," Otacon answered. "I don't see why not. I'll go prep it for flight."

"Ooohhhh no!" Kat proclaimed, shoving Otacon to a seat at the table. "_You're_ staying here, _I'll_ fly the thing, I'm gonna go insane if I don't get outta here. Besides, you and Berto can put those brains of yours together and be twice as brilliant."

"But I've had VR training!"

"Yeah, yeah," Kat rolled her eyes, "I've had _real_ training. Besides, who _can't_ fly a Kamov?"

Snake seemed to resent that.

---

Chapters five and six are up at my website, follow the link up top or in my profile.

I know absolutely no Spanish, so I'm forced to rely on things like Google's language tools and AltaVista's babelfish; forgive the horrible translations.

Thanks to Ellen Brand for the line about the waffle iron, and lord knows what else that's slipping my mind...

Su madre no cuenta, usted demented otaku. - _Your mother doesn't count, you demented otaku._

Va al infierno usted excusa apesadumbrada para un ingeniero! - _Go to Hell, you sorry excuse for an engineer!_

Hah, usted primero, Muchacho Nuclear! - _Hah, you first, Nuclear Boy!_

Mayo su de las ecuaciones cálculo nunca correctamente! - _May your equations never compute properly!_

Tu madre es un hámster! - _Your mother is a hamster!_

Muerte, infiel! - _Die, Infidel!_

Voy a golpear su cabeza adentro, y no significo el que esta' en sus hombros! - _I'm going to bash your head in, and I don't mean the one on your shoulders!_

Peda sa rynt, oui hyhu vnayg! - _Bite me hard, you nano freak!_ (As Berto points out, this is not Spanish. Otacon is speaking in the Al Bhed language from Final Fantasy 10.)


	5. Chapter V

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear Solid (or anything Metal Gear for that matter,) and I don't own Max Steel. My profit from this is an exact figure of zero dollars.

Metal Gears, Nanoprobes, and a Word from our Sponsor

Chapter V  
by Alhazred  
madarab20@hotmail.com  
http://www.rockettownonline.com/~alhazred  


There are still too many things I have to do. -Solid Snake

"You know, one of N-Tek's old field training facilities was a recreation of Shadow Moses."

"Figures," Snake rolled his eyes, strapping his M4 rifle to his back. "VR simulations, create your own toy soldiers today, just look at Jack over there..."

"VR my foot," Josh smirked, powering up into Max mode. "It's actually _constructed_ on a nice, remote island. What do we _look_ like, Force 21? Please."

"Hmm," Snake pondered that. And then he pondered the idea of someone going to _that_ much trouble to experience his... exploits. It was a nice thought for the ego. "Accurate simulation?"

"Dunno," he answered, flipping on his infrared. "I never got to run through it before we were shut down. Ah, one against an army with no equipment, threat of a nuclear strike, all orchestrated by someone nasty in the government and a deathmatch against a walking tank, something Big Jim woulda loved... Whoa, we got a minefield to the south."

Glad that he'd brought his thermal goggles this time, Snake leaned further out of the Kasatka and panned his view around. The high-noon sun warmed everything over, but artificial heat sources were warmer. "Stealth-equipped claymores. Big Jim?"

"Approach from the field is out," Max shut off his infrared and zoomed back a little. "The front entrance looks unguarded. Way too easy. Jim was my biological father, field agent for N-Tek, KIA when I was... four I think."

"Too easy for _them_," Snake answered. "Three guys, two we know, took this place this morning with no armed forces to back them up. The security must've sucked. Your father was Jim McGrath? I heard FOXHOUND taught some of his missions after I left. Never knew the whole N-Tek thing, though."

The Codec came on over Snake's vision, Otacon's ever-present visage greeting him. "It's a fertilizer plant, Snake. They're not gonna have Genome soldiers patrolling the grounds."

"Otacon," Snake winced, "go into another room or something, I'm hearing feedback from the kid's transmission."

"I have an idea," Berto's voice echoed. A few seconds later, both Snake and Max heard the sounds of equipment, papers and people shuffling around.

Berto switched with Otacon on Snake's Codec image for a second. "Whoops, wrong button."

"No, no, _that_ one," Otacon hollered over, his finger waving in front of Berto's face and pointing down.

"I see it, I see it," Berto shoved him away. "Let's see if _this_ works."

Otacon's face came back again. "Ah hah! Snake, we patched our Codec into Max's Biolink."

"Which means?" Snake and Max frowned.

"We're all listening to each other over one line," Berto translated. "So, point of entry, front gates look too easy, there's only two confirmed attackers so they probably left something nasty there in place of guards. How's the roof look?"

Snake couldn't see the bodies lying around through his thermal scope; they'd long grown cold and the daylight tended to make man-made surfaces pretty blurry anyway, but Max had a clear view. "Couple of corpses lying around, looks like death-by-throwing-knife."

"Vamp," Snake took his scope off. "Well. Now we know who the third assailant is. Hey Otacon, if it's worth anything, I guess following him _was_ a good idea."

Otacon thumbed his nose into the camera. "Nyah nyah, told ya so!"

"So what'll it be, guys?" Kat called back.

Max and Snake shared a look before looking toward the cockpit and nodding. "Roof."

---

Vamp had never actually _left_ the roof. He'd figured at least Snake would choose that particular method of entry, and his hunch appeared to be paying off. Otacon's modifications to the Kasatka may have made it invisible to radar, but the enhanced senses were a definite perk to being undead. He'd seen the chopper when it was miles away, though the fact that the sun had long risen had helped.

So was the complete lack of body heat, something that Vamp appreciated more when he saw the thermal scope hanging off Snake's neck as he roped down.

Snake didn't seem surprised when a knife whooshed by the side of his face and embedded in the wall he'd touched down next to. "Looks like there's a blood sucking freak in the house after all."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Snake," Vamp strolled out into the morning light, a knife playing between his fingers. "If it's any consolation, I would've enjoyed you more as an adversary at the D.O.X. had our little farce gone on. The thrill in dodging bullets is long over."

"Really," Snake's eyebrow went up. "I don't recall saying I was going to bother with you in the first place."

Behind Vamp, Max came out of stealth mode. "Hi!"

Surprised, quite possibly for the first time in his life or unlife, Vamp turned around and promptly had his face introduced to Max's fist.

"Thanks Kid," Snake called, turning around and practically hurling himself inside the rooftop door.

---

The sounds of Max and Vamp's battle long faded, Snake worked his way down from the top floor.

"Otacon, this is _not_ a fertilizer plant."

"Don't look at _me,_" Otacon waved his hands. At least, Snake thought he did; he couldn't actually see from the Codec's limited view. "I hacked into the place's computers as soon as you guys left, there's _nothing_ to suggest otherwise."

"Except the fact that this place looks more like an office building on the inside. How's the kid doing with Vamp?"

Berto flashed onto the other end. "He's... handling it well."

Otacon returned. "Snake... um, find..."

"Find _what?_" Snake raised an eyebrow. "We have no idea what's really going on here. I'll try random searching for the moment."

That said, Snake hopped over the stair railing and landed in a crouch on the lobby floor without a sound. There was still nothing on the radar, but the sight here was _definitely_ wrong.

There was, of course, the fact that the so-called fertilizer plant _had_ such a fancy lobby, but what interested him more was the massive body count. People in suits and casual dress alike were scattered about, with blood caked on the floor in puddles and smeared on the walls.

"God... Fox, eat your heart out."

"I'd do that for him," a distinctly male voice echoed in the hall, "if he were still alive. And if I were taken to cannibalism."

Snake turned instantly, looking toward the source. The lobby turned into an elevator hall at the back, and a man has just strolled out of one, a single stain of blood dark against his shirt. Snake couldn't help but notice that he didn't show on the radar.

His next thought being "FOXHOUND reject," Snake looked the newcomer over: large build, biomechanical right arm, face made completely of metal with red eyes to complete the deranged Terminator look...

"Lemmie guess; Psycho?"

"Ding!" Psycho cheered, his claw folding down. "Good answer. And the survey says... it's time to fry!"

Fortunately, Snake knew when a weapon was being aimed at him, and he dived behind the reception desk before being seared in half by Psycho's built-in beam weapon. The shot strafed across the general area and made even _more_ of a mess with some of the corpses, but Snake wasn't really concerned with that when he stood just high enough to get his gun over the desk and returned fire.

A pair of bullets bounced off of Psycho's right arm as he stepped into one of the elevators, dashing out and firing once more when Snake took cover again. This time, he didn't stay put and made a beeline for the desk.

Hearing his footfalls, Snake hopped up onto said desk and leapt off, catching Psycho in the biggest tackle of his life.

---

"Can't _hit_ him Bro, he knows what I'm gonna do before I do it!"

Max was getting annoyed with Vamp; the freak was matching him move for move, and the only consolation he had was being able to dodge Vamp's knife tricks just as well. The fight was effectively going nowhere.

Vamp could jump higher, too; something he proved at that very moment by leaping into the air and landing less then a foot from Max at his back. Max heard the knife cutting air as Vamp spun on his heals and rolled forward, sending them both back to square one.

Sheathing his combat knife and drawing another throwing blade, Vamp chuckled. "You're more of a challenge then I expected."

Seeing Vamp's arm move for the throw, Max moved to the side, letting the knife whiz past. "I'll take that as a compliment."

He broke into a run and jumped at Vamp, prepared to take his head off with the flying kick he'd become so skilled at delivering, but again, Vamp jumped away.

"Hermano, I may have something," Berto's voice filled his ear, "Otacon said Vamp can dodge bullets by watching the shooter's muscles, he can probably pull the same thing hand-to-hand."

"Great," Max mumbled, "so all I have to do is not move."

"I grow weary of this," Vamp intoned. He leapt through the air and over Max again, flinging a knife on his way... but it was way off target; Max knew it would miss by a mile the second it left the bloodsucker's hand.

Max saw the knife stab into the ground, but quite suddenly, he couldn't move. More specifically, he couldn't move his legs, as if his feet had suddenly been nailed to the floor, and he almost stumbled and fell flat on his face.

"Can't run from your shadow?" Vamp said, waving a finger. He spun around and hurled more knives, and Max suddenly found it much more difficult to weave around them without being able to run.

But Vamp was toying with him; every one of them went toward a point on his upper body and he managed to move way from them all as they flew past, one of then nicking his arm.

"Crap, I forgot he could _do_ that," Max could hear Otacon bolt out of his chair. "Max, listen, he's got you shadowbound, you gotta get rid of your shadow or get rid of the knife!"

Max had more important things to worry about; he could see that single knife jabbed into the ground, impaling his shadow and glowing a faint orange, but his immediate attention was on the single knife Vamp was currently throwing.

He couldn't dodge this one, and it sunk into his leg. He didn't react with more then a flinch, forcing himself not to give Vamp the satisfaction despite the red spreading down his jumpsuit.

Hopping through the air, Vamp landed in a perfect lotus position on the ground in front of him, a smirk on his face. "So many different smells lately..."

It didn't really hurt when Vamp reached up and plucked the knife out. The Max Probes were already doing their thing and dulling the pain, and now they would start sealing the wound. But that didn't change the fact that he still couldn't move.

Vamp reached a hand up and let Max's blood ebb into his palm. And Max glared down at him, fully intent on kicking his ass into next week, after Vamp stopped being a psychotic weirdo that was seriously starting to freak him out, anyway.

At least, it freaked him out when Vamp brought his hand back to his mouth and slurped his blood down like soup. "Different, but succulent. Your nanoprobes make the blood spicy, did you know that, Mr. Steel? Oh, how I wouldn't mind making a regular meal of _you._"

As if being stuck in place wasn't bad enough, Max thought, Vamp was almost _flirting_ with him, too. Having had quite enough, Max drew his grapple gun and pointed it at Vamp's head; Vamp leaned to the side before it was even level.

"You can't hit me with your fist, and you think you're going to hit me with _that?_"

"Nope," Max smiled. He pulled the trigger, not even _trying_ to re-align the gun with Vamp's head. The grapple flew past him, shattering the knife binding his shadow, and Max could feel his feet release.

Vamp shot to his feet, but he was too late; Max had an idea. "Going _Turbo!_"

He opened up on Vamp, his theory proving correct. Vamp could see where the next attack was coming by reading his muscles, and normally, he was fast enough to dodge around them... but in turbo mode, Max was faster.

Vamp managed to duck under his first punch, but each of his blows after that slipped by Vamp's defenses and hurt him a little more, until, finally, Max rolled towards him and planted both feet into his chest. Vamp flew from the ground and right off the roof, powerless to change his direction.

And Max, dropping out of turbo mode, fell against one of the roof's many obstacles, needing a breather. He looked at his leg, and was pleased to see the bleeding had already stopped.

"How're you feeling, Hermano?" Berto asked.

Letting out one last deep breath, Max stood and smiled, "creeped out and half drained, but it was worth it to knock _him_ senseless."

"Y'did more then knock him senseless, Steel," Kat laughed over her headset. Max turned to look at the Kasatka still circling around. "He ain't moving."

"We'll see how long _that_ lasts," Otacon intoned, an ominous air to his voice. "Um, Max, you might be interested to know, Snake's letting his anger out on that Psycho guy on the ground floor."

"Really," Max grinned. "So ol' Smiley came out to play? Going turbo!"

---

Psycho was a better hand-to-hand fighter then most of the weirdoes Snake had faced, he had to give him that. And the guy was smart, too, prepared against being caught off-guard.

But the _very_ loud crashing noise, a combination of 'thud,' 'smash,' and 'crack' and the sound of glass breaking; _that_ distracted them both. And they both turned to look out the front doors to see Vamp's fallen corpse on top of a car, the roof of it now smashed down to the seats. The bloodsucker was bruised, broken, bleeding, and one of his legs was bent in an incredibly unnatural way. Adding to this morbid image was the fire hydrant still spewing water, which was now showering Vamp and turning crimson on the pavement.

"_That_ musta' hurt," Psycho scratched his head for a second, before turning and launching himself at Snake again.

Snake jumped to the side and stuck a leg out for Psycho to run into, but this idea backfired when Psycho caught his leg and dropped him like a rock.

So Snake kicked him in the face with his _other_ leg and jumped to his feet when Psycho stumbled back. The latter started rubbing at his face almost seizure-like. "I _just polished myself,_ I _swear_, if you left a scuffmark I am going to _rip your foot off and make you eat it!_"

"Do you _know_ how asinine these things you say are," Snake raised an eyebrow, "before they come out of your mouth... jaw?"

"Oooo, harsh," Psycho mocked, raising his hands and waving his fingers. "Steel's pet names for me are more insulting, Mullet-Head." At that, Psycho reached over and _picked up_ the massive desk Snake had originally hid behind, hefting it over his head with every intention of hurling it at his adversary. "And for today, I'll demonstrate my _killer curve ball!_"

Eyes wide, Snake decided that this situation stank. Seeing a possible way out, assuming Psycho's bionics weren't bizarre in their design, he drew his SOCOM and fired.

The bullet _pinged_ off of the inside metal of his arm; Snake's shot had been very precise. And the mini-hydraulics that acted as tendons for Psycho's shoulder bled out.

"Aw, crap," the terrorist sighed. Precisely one second later, his arm gave out and the desk fell on his head.

The sound of something solid cracking echoed in the room; Snake turned to see that Max, glowing green again, had leapt off of the roof and landed just outside.

And Max almost forgot to power down when he ran in and caught sight of Psycho buried under a desk from the waist up. "Well. I see you and Smiley got along."

"He decided to sit this out," Snake reloaded his SOCOM. "Said he has a splitting headache after the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill got his phone number."

"Good, maybe _they'll_ deal with him from now on," Max kicked him like a tire, just to make sure he was out. "Now what?"

"He came up from an elevator," Snake looked down the hall. "We could backtrack his route. So, two wackos down, two to go."

Max blinked and followed him. "Two? I thought there were only three."

"Three bodies," Snake answered, "four people. I wasn't kidding when I said Liquid Snake lives in Revolver Ocelot's arm."

The elevator Psycho had taken only went down, which was interesting in itself, but the fact that it had needed a keycard to open, easily snatched from one of the bodies in the lobby, made it stand out.

And it went down _far,_ at least twenty stories before coming to a stop and opening its doors. Snake seemed to look into space for just a second, in reality checking his radar. "Little hallway, no one here."

"_Now_ who's using a gimmick," Max chuckled. Snake responded by turning and glaring at him before turning into the hall.

This hall had only one doorway for an exit. Clearly, the architect of this building was either a very boring man or had very little time to be creative. This door, however, also required a keycard, and they hadn't found one for the level of security the door displayed.

"Great," Snake pulled a cigarette and lit it, "maybe our friends up top have one."

"No need," Max put a hand to the door, vaguely annoyed at the tone the sensor made when it didn't read the appropriate card on his person.

He took a step back and kicked it in.

"_That's_ handy," Snake nodded. "Hey Otacon, can we keep him?"

But Max was silent on the other side of the threshold, and Snake saw why as soon as he followed.

The cigarette dropped from his mouth when his jaw hit the floor. "Metal Gear?!"

"What did he say?" Both of them heard Otacon freak and rustle about, desperately trying to get a view of Berto's monitors. "Lemmie see that!"

Everyone was speechless. The door led to a catwalk circling above a massive underground chamber. The room was a maintenance bay not unlike the one built on Shadow Moses, and in it stood a variation of Metal Gear REX. This one resembled Otacon's original designs more then some did, but it was smaller, probably faster over rough terrain but carrying a lighter conventional payload. Not that REX really needed anything besides a rail gun and a nuclear warhead to be efficient.

And even Snake, who had seen dozens of these and stared down RAY, the Metal Gear to end Metal Gears, was shocked beyond belief. It just _wasn't supposed to be here._ "Um, Otacon?"

"I didn't know!" Otacon yelped. "I hacked their systems before you even_ took off,_ there's nothing in there!"

"Calm down, Otacon," Snake blinked. It seemed, from Snake's point of view, anyway, that the massive abuse of his invention was starting to get to him more and more. Maybe a convenient vent for whatever feelings he had over Emma's death... Otacon _was_ taking Vamp's presence in stride, after all...

"Well, he didn't find anything because nothing's there," Berto came over the line, the insane tapping noise signifying that he was already hacking into something himself. "The information on it's all in the Mexican government's database."

"How'd you know where to look?" Max raised an eyebrow.

Otacon answered him. "It's _always_ the government's fault," he sighed. "Doesn't matter which one or what the issue is, but that's the gold mine... I _knew_ I should've looked around somewhere else when it didn't add up..."

"Well, at least now we figured out what our friends are doing here," Snake gestured to the machination. But as fast as that idea hit him, he realized something else as well. "Wait... this doesn't make sense-"

Click.

Snake and Max dived away from each other and hit the floor without a word, both knowing full well what had just echoed throughout the bay. The sound of a gunshot soon followed, but it bounced harmlessly off the railing of the catwalk.

Another soon followed, but the catwalk had a solid barrier below the railing, and the two were effectively shielded for the moment.

"Ocelot," Snake muttered.

"I thought you'd never get here, Snake," the old man's voice rang out, reverberating off the walls in the fashion of a horribly tuned musical instrument.

"He wasn't on the catwalk," Max recalled the vast expanse of the chamber, the angle from their current position to the floor. "He must be standing on the thing..."

"Oh, he is," Snake tapped a finger just above his eye; he could see Ocelot on his radar. A determined expression on his face, he slung the M4 off of his back, cocked it, and leapt to his feet. With a yell that would've made Solidus cower, he took exactly one-half of a second to aim the rifle at Ocelot's position and pull the trigger.

And Ocelot just stood there on the roof of Metal Gear, a Colt Single-Action Army in one hand, and a smile on his face as the bullets from Snake's machinegun veered away and into the walls, the ceiling, some even impacting on Metal Gear itself.

Ducking back down as Ocelot fired again, Snake let out a snarl. "Bastard, I forgot he had that thing; bullets won't touch him."

"This is why I'm not a gun person," Max looked at his Biolink, fixated on the T-Juice graph. "Can you piss him off?"

Depends on your definition of 'him,' Snake mused. "Oh... I can piss him off, the question is, can we _handle_ it."

Max weighed the options. "Piss him off. Keep his attention up here, keep him looking for _you._ Stealth mode!"

Max vanished under his cloak, and Snake promptly rolled down the catwalk, stood, and opened fire again. Ocelot almost hit him with the ricochet when he shot back this time.

"Best you've got, Snake?" Ocelot called out, "maybe Liquid was right and you're getting old after all..."

"Yeah, speaking of Liquid," Snake raised his voice. He didn't yell; the more casual he he sounded, the better the chances of angering his genetic twin into putting in an appearance. "Thanks for not letting him out. You're more fun, Ocelot."

"Is that so?" Ocelot's arm twitched.

Snake went on. "Yeah, my brother," he spat the word, pure contempt in his voice, "you know, he just kinda _sucks._ All his crap about killing the world just so he isn't bored, and he's a shitty fighter on top of it! Probably couldn't hit the broad side of a barn if he were smart enough to _use_ a gun."

"Shut up!" Ocelot's face turned pale and his arm jerked. He caught on to what Snake was doing and dropped down to Metal Gear's arm. From there, he hopped onto the kneecap and down to the floor.

"I dunno, Ocelot," Snake fired at him again, knowing full well nothing would hit. "It's clever of you to wear that thing, I mean, when Liquid's around, he'd just get you killed otherwise."

That did it. Now watching from on top of Metal Gear himself, Max heard a distinct, _violent_ change in Ocelot's heartbeat... and Ocelot screamed, too, something that almost sounded like a long, drawn out, "damn you, Liquid..."

And then he was quiet again... but he pulled a complete one-eighty and tossed away the Colt in his hand, his voice completely different as his head snapped around, looking for any sign of Snake. "Brooootheerrrr!"

It wasn't the usual jovial greeting Liquid taunted Snake with, more like a demand that Snake would dare show himself so he could get a bullet between the eyes.

Snake, in fact, had been crawling across the catwalk toward the ladder. "Yeah, nice to see you too, Liquid!"

Popping his thermal scope back on, Snake poked his head up for a quick look; Max was too close to Liquid to distract him with gunfire anymore, lest the ricochet turn into friendly fire.

Liquid tried taking a shot at him, but he wasn't the gun master Ocelot was and grew angered at the fact that the Colt _didn't fire._ Scowling, he pulled the hammer back and took the shot, but now it was just a formality. The ricochet was no danger this time, so Snake stood and, trying to stay low, dashed to the ladder.

Now remembering to pull the hammer back, Liquid took the time to aim. Maybe he didn't 'understand the bullets,' but he could hit knotholes on the broad side of a barn with an actual, visual target to shoot at.

And then what felt like a hand wrapped around his arm and ruined his aim just as he pulled the trigger. Feeling something, or _someone_ kick the gun out of his hand, Liquid tried to strike back. He missed, and Max, dropping out of his stealth, punched him in the face.

But while Liquid simply used the momentum to pull a back flip and land on his feet, Max almost fell over, the tell-tale _beep_ sounding from his Biolink.

Liquid was disarmed, but he was more annoyed then distressed. "Can't fight your own battles, Snake? Sending a child after me now?"

Max had heard _that_ insult enough in his illustrious career, and he enjoyed it about as much as he did when he first started. But he _did_ enjoy making the terrorist of the week eat his own words, and he planned on making Liquid do just that.

Liquid lunged for him, and Max, summoning what strength he had left, stepped to the side and kicked Liquid square across the back as he passed. Unfazed, Liquid pushed off of Metal Gear's leg and tackled Max to the ground, but Max rolled with it and pushed him right off.

A snort escaping from his lips, Liquid shook his head at Max. "You don't even _know_ what's going on, do you? You have _no_ idea."

"I know you're a psychotic, possibly schizophrenic madman trying to steal powerful nuclear weapons," Max spat back. He grabbed his knees, sweat pouring from his face. He didn't bother looking at his T-Juice gauge, having a distinct feeling that he didn't want to know.

And Liquid started laughing so hard he almost went into convulsions. "Stealing?! You think Ocelot _wants_ this outdated phony thing?"

"Then what _does_ he want?" Max glared. If Liquid was so eager to hear himself talk, there was no reason that couldn't be useful.

"Me dead and buried, if you must know," Liquid attacked again; this time, Max was too drained to get out of the way and took most of the blows. "Ocelot thinks I don't know what happens when he's in control, but I see it all! He was supposed to help me claim this body for _myself,_ for what it's worth, but he screwed me over _for_ Ocelot!"

That got Max's interest. "Who's 'he?'"

Liquid just moved to strike Max down again, but a hand grabbed his head from behind.

And that hand wasted no time in slamming his face into Metal Gear's armor plating. "Liquid, your blood pressure is downright _obscene._" Snake mashed his forehead into the metal once more for good measure and let him drop to the floor non-chalant. "I'm surprised Ocelot's heart can take it. You okay, Kid?"

"Good question," Max panted, finally looking at his Biolink. "Berto, something's wrong... I shouldn't be draining this fast."

"I can't figure it out either," Berto mumbled, concentrating too hard on the data being fed to him to put much energy into talking. "Power down, Hermano."

"But..."

"I mean it."

He did so. "Feels like I'm taking a bath in an EMP..."

"EMP?" Otacon blinked. "What about EMP?"

"The Max Probes are too small to be totally insulated against electromagnetic interference," Berto explained, furiously trying to figure out the problem.

At this, Otacon grew alarmed. "Um... Snake? Didn't Ocelot say his anti-ballistic shielding uses electro-magnetics?"

Getting the idea, Snake plucked the EM shield from Ocelot's belt and stomped it under his boot; Josh felt better almost immediately.

"Well that answers _that,_" Josh chuckled.

"Don't go back into Max mode, Hermano," Berto warned him, "it's already done the damage."

"Don't have to tell _me_ twice," Josh answered. "So what now?"

"Now we destroy _that,_" Snake waved an arm toward Metal Gear. "Otacon, any ideas? We didn't come equipped for demolition."

"Well, let's see," the engineer paused for a moment. More typing came over the line. "Is there a... Josh, can you turn your head to the right? That's perfect. See those cables wrapping around the catwalk and plugging into Metal Gear's beak? Those are fuel lines, they must've seen Snake's pictures of RAY and altered my design a little, it should refuel through the leg, but anyway..."

"So we sever the fuel lines and dump flammables everywhere," Berto added, "and set it off... we could use it's own payload, blow the whole building sky-high. We can walk you through the procedures."

"Great. Now, let's see," Snake noticed Otacon scratch his head, "from what Berto found, it looks like the thing's on a rotating platform, if we turn it, it should tear the fuel lines right off."

"I can't find the arming codes in the database," Berto added. "Josh, can you climb back up the ladder?"

Suppressing a groan, Josh answered, "sure thing, Bro."

"Okay, go back up and walk around it until you reach the control room, and I'll walk you through hacking the computers."

"So how do I turn the thing?" Snake huffed.

Eyebrows raised, Otacon said, "Geez Snake, patience! Look behind Metal Gear, there should be a big computer console with a knob on it for the turntable. Go turn it a hundred-eighty degrees."

"Gotcha," Snake found said console. The control he needed was more like a handle: nice, obvious, and _locked_ under a pane of glass that needed a key to open. "Oh, screw it."

He shot the lock out, and the glass popped open.

Up in the control room, Josh wondered how Berto and Otacon did this h4x0r stuff so easily. And he had someone talking him through it! Fortunately, he was almost there, and right on time with Metal Gear rotating down in the bay. The fuel lines tore as Otacon and Berto had predicted, but Snake scrambled back up the ladder long before the brown, watery liquid even made it to his feet.

He left Ocelot in the bay.

"Okay Hermano," Berto said, "home stretch. I just looked at the raw data you sent me; use the login name "Julia," and enter "E-W-H-P-T-4" for the password."

"Done," Josh answered back. Of course, Berto could see that already.

"Okay, see where it says 'Self Destruct?' Hit that, and it'll do everything for us."

An alarm blared as soon as Josh followed that last instruction and the monitor flicked off, coming back with a simple digital countdown.

The countdown was set to five minutes... and it started immediately. Berto swore a nasty one in Spanish and Otacon fell out of his chair when he saw the image going through Josh's Biolink. "That's _all!?_ What kind of safety precaution is _that?_"

"Who cares, we're leaving," Snake dashed back to the elevator, Josh right behind him. The effect of power drains were sometimes psychological; right now, Josh felt a great compulsion to _move_ despite the muscles, as well as the nanoprobes in his legs screaming for him to halt.

And to make matters worse, they both suddenly remembered that the elevator had taken a good four minutes, at _least,_ on the way down. "Berto, have Kat drop the ladder down and hang near the front doors, we don't have time for the roof."

The counter was on every monitor in the building, and it was down to forty-five seconds by the time they reached the lobby. Josh, unable to ignore his condition as much as he would've liked too anymore, almost fell flat on his face running out towards the doors, but Snake grabbed his shirt and steadied him mid-run.

"You're not gonna make it," Otacon yelled.

Snake growled back at him, absent-mindedly noticing that Psycho was no longer buried under pieces of broken desk. "_That's_ encouraging."

"I seem to remember being in this position before," Josh wheezed. They hit the doors, seeing the ladder from the Kasatka dangling another ten feet ahead and, Josh noticed; Vamp was gone as well. Filing that away for later, he pressed the magic button on his Biolink.

This had the effect of sending Berto into cardiac arrest. "Josh, _don't!_"

But Max paid him no heed. "Going _turbo!_"

With that, he grabbed Snake around the waist, jumped... and passed out in midair. Fortunately, Snake caught him _and_ the ladder, prompting Kat to jerk the Kasatka away immediately.

Inside Metal Gear's maintenance bay, the counter reached zero, setting off the conventional weapons of REX's payload. The fuel ignited when one missile actually managed to launch itself and spiral down into the pool rising from the floor, and, as explosions typically do, destroyed REX and the entire underground facility.

The shock wave of the entire stockpile going off bubbled up through the elevator shaft and managed to punch through the roof of the building; some of it ran off and blew out the front doors, passing harmlessly under the Kasatka.

"One day," Kat surveyed the now burned-out building, "we'll learn how not to cause extensive property damage."

And hanging down from the chopper, Snake wondered how the hell he was supposed to climb up a rope ladder with one hand, while carrying a thoroughly unconscious Max Steel.

"I need a cigarette."

---

Slamming his laptop closed so hard it nearly snapped, Otacon fell back into his seat, tore his glasses off, massaged his eyes, and finally remembered to breath. "Thank God _that's_ over."

"Yep," Berto agreed, still typing keys like the world was ending tomorrow. "Now, if I could get _this_ working... have you seen a vial filled with something green and thick lying around?"

"Can't say I have," Otacon put his glasses back on and looked around. "But I'm hungry. Um... is there a McDonalds around here?"

"Even better," Berto raised a finger and reached into a pocket, pulling out a white plastic card emblazoned with the D.O.X. logo. "Go take this to the diner near the bike trail and it's all free."

"'Free' and 'software,'" Otacon reached out for it, "my two favorite words."

"Just bring back something. Actually," Berto decided, "a lot of somethings. They'll be back around suppertime. Is Snake... abrasive when he's hungry?"

Otacon stroked his chin. "Snake's _always_ abrasive."

On his way to the door, a glowing green light caught Otacon's eye. He turned to see a vial filled with green fluid sitting on top of Berto's bed, most likely there due to a simple misplacement. So he picked it up...

...and tried not to vomit when the goop suddenly _grew,_ popped the top of the vial off, and oozed over his hand. "Berto, your mucus."

"Ah hah!" The younger scientist almost squealed, happy to take the vial. "Um... wash your hands before you eat anything. Trust me on this."

"Oh, don't worry, I will."

With that, Otacon left. Berto plugged the vial into one of his machines and ran a scan; the Max Probes were _almost_ ready, all he needed to do was set a specific reproduction algorithm...

Unbeknownst to Berto, Otacon, after having walked about halfway across the parking lot, started to feel eyes on his back. He turned around, but no one was there except for the normal everyday D.O.X. competitors minding their own business and socializing in the afternoon sun.

So he kept walking. And he rounded a corner.

And then a knife landed in the ground in front of him... right in the middle of his shadow.

---

The ref list:

-The login and password to the computer is a reference to Cowboy Bebop.

-Otacon's mucus line is from Ghostbusters.


	6. Chapter VI

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear Solid (or anything Metal Gear for that matter,) and I don't own Max Steel. My profit from this is an exact figure of zero dollars.

A word of warning, this chapter contains rather blatant torture. It's standard Ocelot fair, so it's not a bloodbath in any sense, but iffin you don't like such a thing anyway, don't complain if you go ahead and read it.

Metal Gears, Nanoprobes, and a Word from our Sponsor

Chapter VI  
by Alhazred  
madarab20@hotmail.com  
http://www.rockettownonline.com/~alhazred  


Just once I'd like to go on a rampage without any interference! Is that too much to ask? _-Psycho_

"Why can't there just be a button that says 'on?'" Snake rapped his fingers on the sides of his head. He'd plugged the portable generator into Max's Biolink easy enough, and now he found himself staring at the thing like it was from Mars.

"Just hit the red one," Kat called back. Snake could've sworn he's heard a chuckle come from her. Snake did so, watching the green glow work it's way up the cord. He understood the T-Juice graphs about as much as the buttons, so he left it at that, propped Josh up so he wouldn't go sliding out the side, and joined Kat in the cockpit.

"Should I just leave him like that?" he asked.

"Yep, he'll be fine," Kat answered. "Damn lucky you both got out of there. What'd Smiley and the other weirdoes want?"

"Dunno," Snake sighed, putting a hand to his head and cracking his neck so hard that Kat was surprised he didn't break it in two. "Doesn't make sense. None of those second hand Metal Gears are as good as Otacon's original, and _that_ doesn't hold a candle to the one Ocelot stole four years ago. I'd guess Vamp's been a Patriot all along too, but I dunno where they dug up your buddy."

Kat rolled her eyes. "They probably waved money in his suspected locations. Yep, that was always Dread's problem, inspiring too many lackeys with money instead of ideals."

A light bulb turning on over his head, Snake answered, "Money, huh? So we can look for recent transfers of very _large_ sums of money, probably from a Swiss account, with no immediately discernable destination. Hey, Otacon!"

"No Response" flashed across his vision after the Codec rang a few times. "Otacon? Otacon, pick up damnit!"

He and Kat traded a glance, both of their faces saying "no response is never a good thing." She touched the 'on' button on her headset. "Berto, come in."

Nothing.

"I don't like this," Kat intoned.

"Fly faster."

They turned to see Josh standing behind them, one hand on Kat's seat for support as he blinked the fatigue out of his eyes.

---

Solitude was the best setting for making scientific discovery, Berto knew. At the moment, there was no one around, and no one around meant there was no one to tell him how stupid and risky the idea he was about to follow through with was.

After all, from a purely scientific standpoint, it was interesting to note that Josh had been alone when he took on Psycho and ended up being the greatest _accident_ in history.

Of course, had he not been so engrossed in what he was about to do _or_ alone, he probably would've noticed his comm. transmission lines were being jammed.

With that on his mind, he plucked the vial of Max Probes from his centrifuge and shoved it into an injection gun. After setting the dosage, he crossed his fingers, leaned down and pressed it against the cast around his ankle. Fortunately, Dr. Yevshenko had been a closet Star Trek fan and designed her tools after those convenient Hypospray things.

One press of a button and the _hiss_ of medication passing through his skin later, and it had been done.

For a moment, nothing happened. At least, nothing _felt_ like it was happening. But then again, Berto had never experienced having tiny machines work their way around his body. If he'd done everything right, _these_ would only work their way into the bone and mend it immediately, slowly dying off afterward to be cannon fodder for his immune system.

He was about to stand up and test it, figuring it was perfectly normal for the transfer to go smoothly. But then he felt something; it _hurt,_ so much that he didn't even yell before his jaw clamped shut and he almost bit his tongue off, his throat trying desperately to scream through his teeth.

A mouthpiece might be a good idea in the future, he decided. Assuming this was a normal reaction. He realized it was probably the nanoprobes setting off his nerves as they did their thing, oblivious to other bodily functions.

After a minute or so, the pain subsided, and Berto realized he'd actually fallen out of his chair. His glasses had tumbled away from his face, but those were easily received before he stood up.

"I just stood up unsupported," he blinked, looking down and tapping his foot to the floor.

It didn't hurt.

So he stomped on it, and it still didn't hurt.

He was tempted to put music on and dance, but he settled for cutting the cast off as fast as possible to get to that horrible itch that had been plaguing him underneath. And good god, it felt strangely _satisfying_ to walk around in both sneakers again.

And the best part of it was, he hadn't charged the probes to anywhere _near _their full power level, so even if they tried swimming off to make bones in places they shouldn't, they wouldn't get far.

Oh boy, are Max and Kat gonna kick my ass for taking **this** risk, Berto grinned. But it was worth it. And all he had to do to cure Snake of FOXDIE was lower the dosage and reprogram the probes to target the different perimeters.

And there was still one more thing to check, now that the probes it involved would've had sufficient time to reproduce. Berto sat back down and unlocked the drawer of his desk with the big fat "Special Projects Area" sticker on it.

Then he removed the pile of printer paper that disguised it and pulled the plank of wood out out; the best place to hide something was in plain site. Not to mention in the utterly unorganized pile of gadgets and whatnots he'd been working on lately.

So he started transferring that pile onto the desk. "Let's see, Infinity Ice, culture of Max Probes, blueprints for a Hawk, gotta build that one of these days... ah hah!"

The particular item he was looking for was an oblong thing, colored in browns with a solid handgrip down the flat sides, the N-Tek logo in the middle and a hilt on one end. It looked like the handle of a sword. And when Berto pressed that little N-Tek logo with his thumb, a swirl of green transphasic energy floated out, and the nanoprobes it supported coalesced into a perfect three-and-a-half foot long blade.

Now **that** was worth the effort, Berto decided. He gave the blade a rather clumsy swing, feeling that it all weighed very little, and shut it off to let the transphasic battery pack recharge itself all the way.

In actuality, he wasn't sure if Max was really a sword-person himself, but regardless, the fact that it would cut through solid metal would make it a useful tool.

Someone knocked on the door.

Leaning into the window, Berto looked to see who was there and was only moderately surprised that there was a distinct lack of human presence; Josh and Kat had had experiences with... other competitor's fans before. There was probably something nasty taped or painted on the outside of the door this very moment.

But Berto didn't really care right now, as he had a few tests to run that would make sure his little experiment had all the right results and none of the wrong ones. He sat down... and the knock came again.

It occurred to him that Otacon should've been back by now.

That thought in mind, he dumped most of his stuff back into the drawer and replaced the top, but he replaced the Max Probes in his injection gun with the Infinity Ice. The probes, the gun and the nanosword all found a nice hiding place under his belt, obscured by his sweater.

He pulled the door open, and again, no one was there. He noted there was a definite lack of graffiti on the van as well, so he closed the door and turned around.

Right into Vamp. His clothes were bloodstained, patches of his skin were mangled and raw, he had shards of glass sticking out of his face in a gentle curve outside his eye and down his cheek, but it was Vamp.

Berto's heart skipped several beats; he tried pulling the door open again, but Vamp shoved him against it, his arms coming up to the sides. "Good afternoon, Dr. Martinez... ready to take a ride?"

---

"You've seen better days, Ocelot."

"Thank you for noticing, King," the marksman scowled. Annoyed, he reached up to his face and pulled the massive bandage off of one side. The burns were nowhere near healed and the mere _air_ touching them stung, but it _itched,_ and pain was far preferable to itching. His right arm, scorched and bandaged almost beyond recognition, hung in a sling. But he _liked_ that. He sincerely hoped Liquid was in pain. "But it was worth it. How's she coming along with the nanoprobes?"

"Fairly well, I'm told," King answered, pressing a button on his control. The monitor on the wall shifted. "With any luck, you'll be rid of my brother within the week."

"Hey," Psycho rolled his metal eyes, reaching for another tool in the box sitting in front of him on the floor. "You got off lucky."

Amused at his compatriot's situation, Ocelot watched as Psycho gave his damaged arm one final tweak, and flexed it around to test his repairs.

He turned when the door at the back right of the office slid open. "Vamp, care to share the secret?"

"It's not so difficult, really," Vamp grinned, plucking one last stray piece of glass from his face. The rest of his body no longer had a mark on it, even the bloodstains on his clothes were gone and there wasn't exactly a dry cleaner's nearby. "Just die."

"Easy for you to say," Ocelot gave one of his guns a spin to calm his nerves. "Did you bring 'em?"

Vamp's head tilted to the side. "Of course. What did you expect?"

"Go have your fun, Ocelot," King gave a wave to his back, not bothering to turn his chair around. "Frankly, I don't see it happening, but if you could get Dr. Martinez to... cooperate with Queen, it might speed up the final steps in her research. Just remember, they need to stay alive."

"Yes, yes," the old man shook his head and smiled. "I only have 'accidents' when I'm ordered to."

Psycho turned to him. "I hope you appreciate the fact that I'm not going to say the joke your sentence structure just inspired."

"I think we _all_ appreciate it, Psycho," King chuckled.

The image on the main monitor suddenly blipped off, replaced by nothing-other then Ocelot's former 'employers.'

"You trust Ocelot?" the colonel avatar asked. "He has betrayed us, what makes you think he won't betray you?"

"Because you're the only ones I would possibly turn on him for, and you're planting suspicion yourself," Ocelot rolled his eyes. He waved to the AI and left the office.

Rosemary's image appeared. "You are no closer to breaking through to us. You will _never_ find us, why do you fight us? You could have been _with_ us since the beginning."

"But I didn't _want_ to be," King laughed. As far as he was concerned, the AI was completely absurd. "Your creators were foolish. The world shouldn't be run by a machine."

"You could not do better," the Colonel came back. "You could not prove us wrong in your entire lifetime, as a human you are no better suited then us. Bias, emotion; we do not posses these barriers."

A more then audible huff came from King's throat, utter contempt in his voice. "Please. I will _not_ sit here and debate the ethics of ruling the United States and, at some point, the world in more clandestine ways then the Illuminati could _dream_ of. As far as I'm concerned, bias and emotion make _any_ sane human more qualified then you."

King turned the monitor off.

"Interesting taste you have, King," Vamp stroked his goatee, looking every bit like a suave, cliché art critic for a few seconds. His eyes were studying the red and white flag that hung on the wall facing Psycho's back. There was no blue, no fifty-three stars, just a graceful serpent and the words "Sons of Liberty."

"It seemed appropriate," King chuckled. "My brother may have been foolish, but he had a talent for the dramatic. Besides, we're not entirely different. But a 'Son of Liberty' shouldn't worship the idea of true democracy like the Holy Grail."

"I'm a son of money, myself, Boss," Psycho added, tweaking his arm one last time before putting his tools away. "Kinda sucks how few realize there's so much profit in 'liberty.'"

"To each his own," King smiled.

---

Nothing actually looked out of place.

And that worried everyone. If things looked normal, it almost certainly meant something was wrong. As soon as the Kasatka landed, Josh and Snake bolted out, Kat only pausing to shut the engines off.

She had to shove them into the van, because they wouldn't fit through the doorway at the same time.

"Guys?" Josh called. He looked at Snake, Snake, in turn, tried raising Otacon on the Codec again, but he just shook his head.

"They might've just gone out for food or something," Kat spoke up.

Snake looked at her. "I assume you don't _really_ believe we'd be that lucky."

"Are you kidding?" she scoffed. "But you never know."

"Hang on guys," Josh told them. Putting a hand to one ear, he looked around and ran back outside. Snake and Kat caught up with him just as he dropped onto the ground and reached under the van, coming up with a little saucer-shaped electronic device. It was beeping quietly.

"Yep, probably a classic signal jammer," Snake idly punched the side of the van. "And I guarantee there's a bigger one wherever they are by now."

"This isn't all I hear," Josh mumbled. Rather then stomping on the thing, he spun around and flung it like a Frisbee. It shattered in midair... and it disrupted the ninja's cloak on impact.

"I must remember you can do that in the future," the ninja tilted his head.

"You know, you seem to show up at the most _convenient_ of times," Kat crossed her arms. "Let me guess, you know where our friends are, you know who took them, you're going to help for absolutely no reason we can see."

It wasn't a question. Snake got the distinct impression that the ninja was smiling under his helmet.

"Strange to expect handouts in this day and age," the ninja walked closer to them. "Regardless, you are correct. Your friends are on an island formerly owned by N-Tek, about seventy kilometers southwest of Del Oro Bay. That is all I can tell you."

With that, the ninja jumped off and cloaked again.

Kat thought on that information a little. "Josh, is he talking about the island I _think_ he's talking about?"

"Yes, yes he is..."

Rolling his eyes, Snake jumped in. "Someone enlighten me?"

Less then two minutes later, they had a state map laid out on the table inside, one little island circled in red.

Kat shook her head. "Yep, that's it... that _can't_ be accidental."

Snake was getting irritated. "If someone doesn't tell me what's so special about this island, I'm going to become very annoyed."

"It's the island with the Shadow Moses reconstruction," Josh answered. "But... the Feds took _everything,_ it should be long torn down."

"I guess we'll see," Snake's eyebrows went up. "This is obviously a trap of some sort."

"And, of course, the best traps are the ones you have no choice but to walk into," Kat added. "Great. Kasatka doesn't have enough fuel left to make it there, either."

"Well, I can solve that," Josh picked up his phone and dialed. "I need earplugs. Uh, nothing Dad! No... fine, fine... listen, can we borrow the Behemoth for a little while?"

---

"Uggghh... my head hurts... Kat, can I have some juice?"

"Funny you should say that." _Click._ "You're about to get enough 'juice' for a lifetime."

Berto's eyes shot open; he knew that voice, he'd heard it over Max's Biolink. He sat up... and found a Colt Single Action Army revolver pointed right between his eyes, the barrel just short of touching his forehead.

Revolver Ocelot stood above him. He was bruised, burned but very much alive, and Berto was particularly interested in the sling holding up his arm. "Hi?"

Ocelot's reply was gruff, throaty and not very polite. "Get up."

"Okay!" Berto chirped. He pushed the ache in his head aside, kicked a leg up, and smashed Ocelot square in that injured arm. The marksman swore, stumbled back into a computer console and clutched at it, his Colt dropping to the floor.

Berto's mind worked faster then his body. First, he would grab the gun, then he'd hit Ocelot again, and finally, he'd shoot him in the knee.

Unfortunately, he didn't get the chance to execute this plan, as an armored hand grabbed him by the hair from behind and yanked him to his feet. Berto could feel the gun press into his skull, his ears waiting for the click of the trigger... of course. Ocelot hadn't been stupid enough to not keep a guard around.

And Ocelot yelled an actual word this time. "Wait!"

The guard did as he was told and lowered his gun. Ocelot, bending down to pick up his, strode back over. His arm was twitching, and Ocelot suddenly jammed the butt of his Colt into it, obviously hurting himself, but he seemed satisfied with the action. "You should've hit him harder."

Ocelot tilted his head toward the guard behind Berto and waved his gun to the side. Looking in that direction, Berto felt his stomach drop. He recalled _this_ scene from In the Darkness of Shadow Moses; Revolver Ocelot's torture room, right down to the currently horizontal table. What was that saying, 'you live a thousand deaths by fearing one?'

The guard shouldered his gun and pulled Berto's sweater over his head. "Hey, getting a little personal here?!"

It was fairly humiliating, and aside from that, Berto tried not to think of what Ocelot was actually _planning._ Maybe he wasn't planning anything... Vamp certainly used scare tactics, why not Ocelot?

Ocelot gave the guard a look that screamed _hurry up._ Not wanting to test his boss' patience, the guard promptly tore Berto's undershirt off to save five seconds. The marksman stared the scientist down, a glint of sadism in his eye. "Look on the _bright_ side, Doctor. _I'm_ just going to enjoy your cries of agony from good old fashioned electricity, but if you give me large amounts of unneeded lip, I'll ask Vamp if _he_ wants you."

Berto didn't much like the thought of that, but then, Vamp, for all of his weirdness, didn't seem like the type to go for the non-consensual thing. The guard, however, went for grabbing him and half-throwing, half-slamming him onto the table. The only thing he registered for a few seconds was the metal; it was _cold_ against his back.

He didn't say anything, since there was no reason to give Ocelot any indication that it would take anything more then cursory efforts to break him.

But then, as the guard and Ocelot used his disorientation to lock his wrists and ankles under the metal restraints without resistance, he wondered if extending what Ocelot was threatening to do was really a good idea.

Very briefly, he completely forgot about that when he finally took a good look at the guard. The red and black armor, the helmet, the rifle... one of Dread's old foot soldiers. The thought that Ocelot had control of them was horrifying; it meant Dread, before checking in at Hell, probably had some connection to Ocelot all along. No wonder N-Tek never found most of his low-ranking subordinates...

"Leave us," Ocelot waved the guard away, not before slapping the button that moved the table upright, "watch the other one."

The soldier nodded and walked through one of the room's two doors; Berto could see him starting to lazily walk around the cell in the next room through the picture windows.

Deciding he had nothing to lose by asking, Berto looked at Ocelot. "Why are _they_ working for you?"

Looking at him like he'd grown three heads, Ocelot started laughing. "You forget who's asking the questions, Doctor."

Berto froze for a moment, that cackle sent chills down his spine, but he couldn't stop his mouth. Anything to delay Ocelot even a few more seconds... give his friends time for that impossible rescue. Or to stop Ocelot from asking questions _about_ his friends that he'd drop dead before answering. "Questions? You... don't seem much like an interrogator."

"Okay, fine, torturer if you prefer," the gunslinger shrugged. "Actually, you'd better make that 'Pain Technician.' Pfft, Pain Technician, we used to be torturers, now ever since those idiots in South America unionized we're 'Pain Technicians.'"

Berto was tempted to rub his thumb and forefinger together and say "This is the smallest record in the world playing 'My Heart Cries for You,'" but he decided that wouldn't be a good idea.

"Remember what I told you about lip, Brainiac," Ocelot turned around, getting a better reach of the console with his good arm. Berto couldn't see whatever it was he was adjusting, but he could guess. "So, let's begin, shall we?"

So much for stalling, Berto thought. Shooting Ocelot the best glare he could, which, he had to admit, wasn't much, he answered, "go to Hell."

Even Ocelot had to admit it; he always enjoyed a... subject that at least _tried_ to keep a conversation going. Snake had been of the be-silent-get-it-over-with type, but this was _fun._ "Oh, language, dear boy! Such a disgrace to your higher education!"

"Yeah, yeah," the scientist sneered. It hit him then: unless Max knocked the door down in five seconds, this wasn't going to be pretty. "Just get it over with. Less talk and more torture."

"Oh," Ocelot smiled, his hand hovering over that red button. "Do be careful what you wish for, Dr. Martinez."

He mashed the button with the heel of his hand.

Berto tried to bite it back, but he couldn't have totally stopped from crying out if his life depended on it, and it probably did.

Ocelot let go and shook his head. "That hurt so much _more_ then you thought it would, didn't it?" A feral grin on his wrinkled face, he pressed his hand down again.

And this time, Berto screamed his lungs out.

Ocelot thrived on the sound. He let go and stepped to the side as if showing off the items he had displayed on the console. Berto hadn't noticed them before, and he didn't notice them just yet, either. He was too busy trying to inhale any semblance of a breath while the pain just kept throbbing _more_ now that he'd stopped, down through his skin, through his muscles, right to the bone. It hurt _everywhere,_ and Ocelot was just getting started.

He'd figured out why the guard had stripped him of his shirts, as well. It wasn't for the electricity, no, the entire table conducted it and it could've just as easily gone through the restraints on his wrists. But whatever bizarre metal was used to make the table was a _very_ efficient heat conductor.

His back wasn't cold from touching the metal anymore. In fact, his skin felt like it was starting to burn.

"So, I suppose I _should_ get to the 'interrogation' part of this sooner or later," Ocelot reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial; Berto's supply of active Max Probes. He set it down on the console, right next to the nanosword and the injection gun that was loaded with Infinity Ice.

Moving towards the table, Ocelot added, "now, I can guess what the green stuff is, but, well, it'd be an understatement to say I was very interested to know what the other two are. I wouldn't mind knowing where your portable transphasic generator is, either."

Finally getting his breath under control, Berto struggled to pull himself up against the restraints and look Ocelot in the face. "Tanto... por...... el minuto pasado ahorre..."

He spat in Ocelot's eye.

For his part, Ocelot didn't seem to mind too much. He shoved a boot under the tattered remains of Berto's T-shirt on the floor, kicked it up to his good hand, and used it as a rag to wipe his face off, but he didn't look particularly phased.

Looks can be deceiving. Berto resisted the urge to fall against the restraints again, while he kept his eyes on Ocelot, terrified of being hit by something, anything, without seeing it coming.

Ocelot's face never changed. "For the record, I _was_ planning on going through this for about ten minutes or so, but now that you've really _pissed me off_ I'm sure I can lose track of time."

---

Can't run from your shadow, Dr. Emmerich?

And the _screaming..._ so far away, but so very blatant... how long had that been going on now, twenty, thirty minutes?

Otacon bolted awake. At least, he thought he did; his mouth wouldn't open and there was no light in the room, so he tried to refrain from moving all that much. A few mumbles later, he realized there was a piece of duct tape over his mouth, one he promptly ripped off.

And the lack of light was due to an easily removed blindfold over his face. He didn't stand up just yet, deciding to take in his surroundings first. It was a small, square room, a room he knew all too well. He'd never actually been _in_ the room before, but he'd seen it. _Oh,_ had he seen it.

But he couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe it to the extent that his mouth formed the words, "there is no way in _hell_ I am back on Shadow Moses."

This was the cell Snake had been kept in during the 'breaks' in Ocelot's torture session. _Funny how things come full circle, last time I wouldn't help him get out, now I'm the one **in.**_

Something was off, though; it was the cot in the corner, opposite the door. It had no bed frame. Snake's old trick of hiding under it to fool the guard wouldn't work. Not that Otacon was entirely sure he could take on a guard if he got the cell open in the first place...

Quite suddenly, Otacon realized he was sitting in the corner that the DARPA chief's corpse had been propped up in during the incident. Instantly freaked, he scurried over to the middle of the wall, not quite feeling up to the idea of major movements with the pounding in his head. Must've been some tranquilizer...

Tranquilizer... but why would Vamp bother...

It had, of course, been Vamp that had taken him. He remembered that much. First the knife had caught him in a shadow-bind, then an arm in a distinctive brown sleeve wrapped around his neck from behind.

Can't run from your shadow, Dr. Emmerich?

That's what he'd said... "Well, _this_ sucks."

Someone banged on the door. "Shut up in there, will ya!"

Otacon ignored him, immediately trying to reach Snake on his Codec, but the signal wasn't going through.

This was getting more absurd by the minute. If that was a Genome soldier out there... Otacon stood up and got a good look out the windows.

It was _worse_ then a Genome soldier. Otacon recognized the armor the guy was wearing, since these were the guys that had been guarding the facility Philanthropy had taken Liquid Snake's corpse from. What was their name, he couldn't remember... this particular guard almost sounded familiar, and he wasn't very vigilant, holding his helmet under one arm, a newspaper in one hand, and a sandwich in another.

That screaming came again, Otacon realized he hadn't been dreaming that. But how could it sound far away if...

It hit him like a bus. Revolver Ocelot's torture room was in the direction of his back, and it probably had some measure of sound insulation. He turned around, slowly... who could that schizo have...

"Ocelot, you _sunnuva bitch!_" Otacon pounded a fist on the window.

"Be quiet," the guard yelled in.

Berto didn't deserve this. Otacon had wondered if Team Steel was, frankly, old enough to understand the severity of the things they did. The business with the 'fertilizer' plant had proven him wrong. Funny how Snake had never seemed to doubt it from the beginning...

But he still didn't deserve this. Ocelot knew damn well neither of them would be any stronger then the DARPA chief. But then, Otacon figured he'd let Ocelot kill him before giving him anything, he liked to think his loyalties were higher then his threshold of pain.

Considering he'd been hearing Berto cry out while in his tranquilizer daze for at least a half-hour, he was guessing his comrade-in-computers felt the same.

---

"Well well well, so that's where they all went off to," Josh frowned, adjusting the Behemoth's course so he could get a better angle of sight. He kept one eye on the radar absorption monitor. "Kat, you should see this."

She was on the bridge in seconds, and she promptly swiped Snake's scope before he could use it himself. "DREAD Minions? You're kidding!"

"DREAD?" Snake asked. "Where have I heard that... gimmie that!"

He stole his scope back and took his own look.

"Well, now we know where _they _went after Dread took his last swan dive..."

"I don't believe this," Snake blinked. He looked across as much of the island as he could. The fact that it was a near _perfect_ replica of the Shadow Moses facility creeped him out a little, but the armored soldiers had his full attention. "I've seen these guys before, broke into a facility they were guarding. Otacon never managed to really find anything on them."

"John Dread's old private army," Josh explained. "I'd say our tip-off was real, at least. I stay we stick to the separate infiltration points, though."

"Agreed," Kat and Snake chimed.

"I think this calls for different drop-off points, though," Snake added. "They've got the helipad pretty well guarded. I'm gonna put down between the tanks hanger and storage building."

"I'll stick with the communications roof," Josh answered, "best place to stash the Helifoil."

"_I'll_ take the front entrance, then," Kat sighed. "Someone's gotta get right to that building."

Snake's eyes grew dark. "I plan on it myself. If Otacon and the Doc are where I think they are..."

His tone of voice suggested it wasn't a good idea to think about it.

---

Berto wasn't screaming as loudly anymore, but Ocelot didn't mind because he was certainly trying. A master torturer knew how to spot the signs of a body giving out and appreciate it just as much as those first few reactions.

Ocelot shut it off for the moment and let Berto catch his breath a little. Asking a question was pretty pointless if the subject was physically incapable of answering. "What does Snake think the S3 plan is?"

"The...what?" Berto tried to raise his head, but he couldn't find the strength. His reflexes were all that held him against the restraints whenever Ocelot pressed the magic button, the metal just supported him otherwise.

"The ignorant act, eh?" Ocelot rolled his eyes. "No one falls for that anymore."

Berto vaguely noticed Otacon in the next room after Ocelot was done shocking him this time; considering he was standing, it probably meant he hadn't had his turn in here yet, which was a good thing. Assuming they could get away from Ocelot in the first place, at least one of them could run.

But he wasn't going to be the one to get them out; that was for certain. "Please... stop..."

Ocelot hardly paid him heed. As far as he was concerned, begging was as good a sign as any that he'd broken his captive, but he'd done it so much it was just part of a natural chain of events. Maybe now, Berto wouldn't see so much value in loyalty.

"Hah. I'm not going to give you the 'you decide when it's over' crap, Doctor, but I _would_ stop if you decided to cooperate. I'll ask again," Ocelot's hand moved back to the console. "_What_ does Snake know about the S3?"

Berto didn't even bother answering, he clenched his jaw shut and tried to steel himself against what was coming. He thought he could feel tears on his face, but then, that could've just been perspiration.

"Ocelot."

Frowning, Ocelot looked at his radio sitting on a nearby stool. It had been Psycho's voice. Looking from Berto back to the origin of Smiley's insanity, he moved his hand down again.

"Ocelot, I know you're there you crazy old codger, you'd better not be doing more to that kid then you _should_ be. _Pick up!_"

With a scoff, Ocelot stomped over, did just that, and yelled back at him. "What!"

"The boss wants ya. Actually, he wants us all. Tell Fangs if you see him, he hasn't answered yet."

"Just _once,_" Ocelot threw the radio to the floor so hard it snapped in two, "I'd like to _torture_ someone without any interference!" He banged on the door into the next room, signaling the guard, and promptly took out the rest of his frustration by slamming his fist down on the console. "Is that too much to ask!"

On the table, Berto felt his restraints release and slide back, but he couldn't stop himself from peeling away and _thudding_ on the floor. The floor, however, was a decidedly more comfortable place. He voiced this with a groan.

"Put him with the other," Ocelot told the guard before he left through the door out into the hall. The guard nodded and uncouthly dragged Berto up.

The door to the cell opened. Otacon was tempted to try and charge at the guard, but he ran and caught Berto when the guard shoved him in instead.

The door closed, locked, and the soldier went back to his routine... or he tried to, but he suddenly had to run to the bathroom.

Deje Vu, Otacon thought. He looked down at Berto and jumped at the sight.

The younger man was heaving for breath, shaking uncontrollably, and obviously unable to stand on his own. His skin was cold and clammy, and it felt weird where Otacon had a hand at his back, he turned his head to see it better.

"Christ," he swallowed. Berto's shoulder blades and the backsides of his arms had second degree burns, and the rest of his back was scorched red.

"If you.... if," Berto whispered. His throat was so raw he could barely speak at all. "If you ask... how I feel..."

Otacon couldn't help but notice he actually had a _smile_ on his face after going through that, but he leaned down to hear him better.

"I am... so... so... going to punch you..."

"Please, don't insult my intelligence," Otacon chuckled sadly. He yanked his lab coat off and wrapped Berto in it as he walked him over to the bed, not entirely sure it was a good idea as far as first aid went... but then, there wasn't much first aid he could do anyway.

Especially if... _when_ Ocelot came back. Otacon wasn't Snake, but he wasn't stupid, and he knew neither of them would survive very long if they didn't get out before Ocelot returned with sufficient free time on his hands...

---

"Tanto... por...... el minuto pasado ahorre..." - _So much... for... a last minute save..._

No, the fifty-three stars thing isn't a mistake; granted, I don't think there WILL be any new states in the next decade, but who's to say?

The ref list:

-The nanosword is pretty much ripped straight from Deus Ex.

-Thank you, Julia ol' buddy ol' pal ol' chum, for letting me use that "less talk, more torture" thing. w00!

-Ocelot's "Pain Technician" ramble is from Babylon


	7. Chapter VII

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear Solid (or anything Metal Gear for that matter,) and I don't own Max Steel. My profit from this is an exact figure of zero dollars.

Metal Gears, Nanoprobes, and a Word from our Sponsor

Chapter VII

by Alhazred

madarab20@hotmail.com

http://www.rockettownonline.com/~alhazred

We're all born with an expiration date; nothing lasts forever. -Solidus Snake

"Remind me to thank Dad for this."

"And every _other_ toy he gives us," Kat took the keycard he offered. A small "5" was inscribed on the clear plastic.

"Wish I had level five when I first went into the real thing," Snake took another. Josh kept the last for himself. "Would've made it easier. So neither of you have actually been _through_ this thing, eh?"

"Sadly, no," Kat sighed. Clearly, she would've loved to experience the challenge of a run-through of Shadow Moses. "But even if we had, there's no guarantee _these_ jokers haven't changed anything around anyway."

"Right," Josh added. "But we've got nothing better to go on, so we might as well start looking around like they haven't."

Snake thought on it. "One of us should check the Metal Gear hanger."

"I'll handle it," Max nodded. "I can go down the communications tower and right through the blast furnace. Kat?"

"I'll go in on the tower too," he answered. "Check out the storage building while you go the other way."

Max handed out headsets; with Berto and Otacon out of the loop, bothering with the more direct methods of communication would've just been a hindrance. Snake, however, had taken more then one different set of goggles.

---

Otacon had taken to obsessively cleaning his glasses as he sat in the corner to fight back the madness of boredom. Ocelot was either busier then he had planned on being, or he was being _very_ passive in his techniques, letting them sweat it out for awhile...

Every now and then, Berto would shiver a little under the bedcovers, maybe pull Otacon's coat tighter. Otacon, for his part, didn't know if he was asleep or not. But if he was, he probably wasn't having the best nap of his life.

Trying the Codec again, Otacon let out a scoff. There was no escaping the conclusion that the walls had been reinforced with radio shielding, but he didn't have anything better to do then try.

"No luck on comms?"

His head snapping up, Otacon met Berto's gaze. His eyes were barely open, but open nonetheless. He wasn't shivering as much anymore, but his voice was still barely over a whisper.

"Not a bit. Did you sleep?"

"No," Shaking his head as if he didn't care to think about it, Berto sat up. "How long..."

"Been a half-hour, no Ocelot." Starting to wipe his glasses off again, Otacon stood up. "No way outta here either..."

"Is this blood?"

Blink. Blink again. Otacon looked at his lab coat on Berto's shoulders; the latter was staring at a spot on the side, a faint strain so light he hadn't noticed before.

Otacon's face fell. "Yeah..."

"Sorry," Berto added, realizing he'd gone off on quite the tangent as well as hitting it on the mark.

"Oh, it's... not mine," Otacon said, putting his glasses back on. "Vamp stabbed... someone. Died in my arms. Kinda turned into a reminder after that, you know? It... reminds me of her."

Berto wished he hadn't asked. "Oh... sorry..."

"Eh, stop apologizing." His eyes traveling to the floor, Otacon went on. "It's a good reminder... Snake always says you have to find something to believe in before you can pass anything on to the world. I... believe in helping people who aren't at the right place and time to help themselves. Though right now _we're_ the ones in the wrong place, remind me to ask Snake to teach me some of his tricks. You hungry?"

"Three eggs over easy, please," Berto tried to smile. His eyes hung at half-mast; he just didn't have the strength to do much of anything.

"Well," Otacon dug into his pants pockets, coming out with a pair of dull silver wrappers with exceedingly simple labels. "Today's specials are 'Bland,' and the French variant, 'Le Bland.'"

Otacon was nice enough to walk over and hand him one, doubting Berto would care for a game of catch at the moment. Grateful for that, Berto looked at the little wrapping; on the bottom was a box of nutrition facts, and on the top it simply read, "C-Ration."

"Snake got me on these damn things," Otacon pulled his open, looking at the little nutrient food like it was a three-year old cookie. Of course, the normal, _fresh_ state of existence for a C-Ration _was_ like a three-year old cookie. "If there's any taste... hey maybe you should take small- never mind."

Berto had already bitten off half in one bite.

As if to taunt them, the guard started having his usual stomach troubles, leaving them once more with no supervision, but no way out.

"That guy _really_ gets around," Otacon said to himself. "There _must_ be a way out of here..."

"Is he gone?" Slowly, Berto forced himself to his feet, swallowing the last of his ration. He was wobbly, but he could stand on his own now. "Completely?"

"Yep," Otacon watched the guard make a mad dash through Ocelot's torture room until he was out of sight.

Without hesitation, Berto dug into his back pocket.

Otacon blinked. "Where'd you get _that?_"

"Vamp took it from me. I palmed it from the table when Ocelot let me flop," Berto grinned, pressing the button on the nanosword. His face turned to relief when the blade coalesced and showed no signs of being tampered with.

He'd planned on testing the blade's theoretical capability to slice metal on the door, but before he could do so, the door tore off its hinges seemingly of it's own volition.

And Vamp walked around the doorframe as if he'd been in the hall, but nothing had been behind the windows. His eyes met Berto's as he turned. "I hear a bird calling my name..."

"You..." Otacon started, his voice seething with rage to the point where witty remarks weren't entirely forthcoming. As far as he was concerned, Vamp was responsible for their entire situation, let alone what he'd done in the past. "YOU!"

Before Berto knew it, Otacon had snatched the nanosword from his hand and dived at Vamp with it pointed at his heart.

Vamp caught him by the wrist and lifted him off his feet long before he was even close. The blade wavering harmlessly away from either of them, Vamp yanked his arm further up, his face stopping just short of Otacon's neck. "Fortunately for you, the intelligent don't have much of a taste. Funny, isn't it? I feel you should know, the equipment in your falsetto lab is entirely functional."

He tossed Otacon away; Otacon, in turn, bumped into Berto, and Berto almost fell over trying to shove Otacon back from falling on top of him. No sooner had this finished then a rectangular black object plastered with stickers of bikini-clad anime women flew through the air and promptly hit Otacon in the face before he caught it.

It took the both of them a few seconds to realize it was Otacon's laptop.

And Vamp was gone.

"I am now, officially, confused."

"Me too," Otacon added, opening his laptop as if looking at the keyboard would teleport them back to the D.O.X. "Falsetto lab... what?"

Light dawned in Berto's eyes, and they opened wider in revelation then they had been in mere consciousness since Ocelot had let him down. "This isn't Shadow Moses, this is the training course N-Tek built."

"And if the equipment works," Otacon snapped his fingers, "we can send out a big fat distress call. Oh... ahem, here..."

With that, Otacon handed the nanosword back. Weapons never sat well in his hands, really, but even a prestigious otaku such as him could only take so much from the blood-sucking bastard that had put a knife through his sister.

Berto didn't ask. He was out the door and into Ocelot's domain first, wasting no time in collecting his other items and peeling off Otacon's coat in favor of his sweater. The fuzzy cotton stung more against the dampness of his serious burns, but he didn't care, the less people could see... the less his _friends_ could see, the better.

For Otacon's part, he didn't much mind the prospect of putting his coat through the washer again. If he could be a psychiatrist's nightmare and draw strength from a stain of his sister's blood, why not add a fellow scientist's pain?

He did, however, make a mental note to ask Berto why he could suddenly walk on his ankle.

---

Ocelot's arm was twitching.

Psycho had to admit that he liked Ocelot's style. The guy was a sufficient sociopath to demand nothing less.

But Psycho didn't care for Liquid Snake. Liquid was such a poser, as far as he was concerned, blabbering on about his drama and genes and whatnot. It didn't help that Ocelot either never thought to or never _wanted_ to remove his EM shielding when he felt Liquid taking over.

But for the moment, that wasn't a problem. "What's the plan, Boss?"

Making one final adjustment to the army-brown combat gear that wrapped around his lower legs, King stood up. "The three of you merely have to make sure Ocelot's 'prisoners' play their roll. I shall handle the wayward Mr. Steel."

Slightly agitated, Psycho growled. He wanted to pound Max's face in himself, but he would settle for Solid Snake if he bothered coming to this building. He watched King open a drawer in the desk and retrieve a gun belt. It held two almost identical weapons, one black and inscribed with _"Ombra" _on the barrel, the other gray and reading _"Luce."_

"I still say you're insane for taking seven-round Desert Eagles into a fight," Ocelot chuckled.

"You're one to talk. Besides," King smiled, tapping his sunglasses with the front sight of one of his guns. "Infinite ammo."

Roaring with laughter, Ocelot followed the others out of the room.

King walked to his desk. One of his hands played across a panel of controls on one side, each entry made with confidence and certainty. A few seconds after he received the status report he so desired, the wall's monitor came to life with the S3 AI once more.

"You have made a mistake," the Colonel said.

He switched off with 'Rosemary.' "You've let us see, you've let us hear, and you have let us destroy you."

"We shall see," King raised a bottle of water in toast to them, and then he sat in his chair as if nothing was wrong while a thirty-minute countdown began to tick its way down to zero on the monitors.

---

"Kat, what's up on your end?" Max whispered into his headset.

"Not a damn thing," her voice came back. "This part of the base is almost deserted."

Snake chuckled. "I'll buy that, there's only two of these goons over here... looks like they're shorthanded."

With that, he deftly avoided the obligatory security camera and dashed down the stairs. Taking a second to look at the guards before hiding behind said staircase, he decided N-Tek _definitely_ had too much money when it was being thrown around the espionage gig, the reproduction was so precise it was scary. The only fault was a blatant overuse of the N-Tek logo on walls, doors and other things, though he choose to think it was due to the designer being smart and wanting to make sure agents drew a big black line between reality and fantasy.

Raiden seriously needed this for therapy.

With that happy thought, Snake took an opening and made it to the elevator, reaching the next floor without a hitch. Unfortunately, the door to Revolver Ocelot's sanctum didn't slide open when he approached it, card in hand, and it didn't take him long to notice it had been replaced with a normal, albeit large door that had a normal lock.

So he continued down the hall and into the cellblock; whatever guard on duty must've been able to get in, unless Ocelot kept the only key. The realism took another climb, the place was as gritty and poorly cleaned as he remembered, that was for certain.

The moans of agony coming from the bathroom caught his attention immediately. When that particular door opened and a soldier stepped out, Snake wasted no time in popping him with a tranquilizer in the neck. "I should let that guy get a hit in sometime."

One of the cells was open, but the other was closed and probably locked. Maybe Ocelot had someone in the other room right now. That thought in mind, Snake plucked the key ring off the guard's belt. It was simple enough, there were only three keys, one for each cell and one for the door in the hall.

This scene was familiar. Except the last time it had played out, the very guard Snake had just knocked out cold had been smashed over the head and promptly had his clothes stolen by Meryl.

So he dropped to the ground and crawled to the wall, passing underneath the range of sight provided by the slit in the door. With that done, he hugged the wall and stepped toward the door, reaching an arm out with key in hand.

The first key he chose went in and turned with a rattle that, under any other circumstances, would be unnoticeable. Stealth missions tended to make pin drops completely unacceptable.

The cell's occupant, apparently female, let out a startled gasp and Snake could hear sudden, quick footsteps. Whoever it was tried to quietly step to the door, hoping to hear or see better.

Holstering the M9 and pulling his SOCOM, Snake flung the door open, reached inside, grabbed a handful of clothes, and pulled the woman out against one mother of a shriek, gun aimed at her head instantly, just in case.

He was glad for the last part when he looked her over: cheesy Otacon-like labcoat, long hair, part Asian, eyes squeezed shut and hands instinctively raised... it didn't take him long to realize whom he'd just freed. "Naomi."

---

"Um, Snake..."

No answer. Unanswered radio calls were getting to be a major annoyance lately, Max decided. Snake couldn't have picked a better time to go radio-silence. Max had made ti to the maintenance bay. There was certainly enough _room_ for Metal Gear RAY, especially considering the thing was slightly smaller then the REX model.

But the bay was totally empty as far as giant walking battle tanks went, so Max turned and doubled back. "Well, this was worth the effort."

He almost ran right into a pair of guards that seemed to be waiting for him around a corner. One pointed an AK-74u at his chest, the other had a plasma rifle. Taking a step back, Max looked over his shoulder only to see another pair of guards cut him off, these armed with shock sticks. "Um... hi."

---

He couldn't bring himself to be surprised at anything this woman did anymore.

Her expression softening, she cracked open her eyes. "Snake?"

"Not the tooth fairy," he answered, pistol almost touching her forehead.

"You know you can put the gun... down... eh heh..."

For what it was worth, she looked genuinely terrified.

It wasn't worth much. "Dream on. I thought someone broke you _out_ of prison."

"Didn't you?" she wailed. "I went to sleep in one and woke up in here!"

"Nastasha seems to think so," Snake shook his head. "Wasn't me. Now, you have five seconds to explain what you're doing here and another two to come up with a good reason why I shouldn't make the contents of your head decorate that wall_,_ considering what's swimming in my blood."

"Um, because..." she stammered, blinking down the barrel of the gun's suppressor. She shut her eyes again, flinched, and spat out, "because I gave the ninja all the information you need for a cure!"

"You know the ninja," Snake said; it wasn't a question, he wanted to know whether she liked it or not. Why she would be that eager to help him didn't seem like priority information at the moment.

"Well no not really just... he appeared a few days ago knocked out the guard and asked me what he could give you so you'd trust him and I told him where the data was," she continued babbling, clearly not used to having a gun touching her head. But then, seeing the battlefield as a child could have that effect on people.

Snake pulled the trigger. _Click._

She jumped and then froze, eyes crossed and glued to the weapon.

"Damn lucky I kept the safety on," he growled. "Get the hell outta here."

She was happy to oblige. Snake leaned against the wall and sighed once she was out the door, a cigarette soon in his mouth. Living on borrowed time could be stressful. "Billions of women in the world and the only ones I meet are the ones that try to kill me..."

Naomi, on the other hand, checked back to see if Snake had followed her into the hallway and, noticing the lock on Ocelot's door had been sliced through, was quick to hop onto the elevator. Her face twisted in exasperation, she muttered, "I _hate_ that defenseless chick act..."

But Snake was fairly annoyed that the other door had been totally busted when he went out with his newfound keys in hand. He was even more annoyed when a quick search turned up nothing. If Berto and Otacon had been in there, he'd missed them by five seconds.

---

The trek across buildings had been short and reasonably hazard free. Berto had insisted on stopping at the armory for a pair of thermal goggles first, remembering the minefield in Nastasha's book, but there weren't any Claymores in sight.

Otacon was just happy that the climate wasn't mimicking Alaska at the moment. The doorway into the storage area from the tank station was only raised a foot-and-a-half, however. He remembered having to go through that once on Shadow Moses.

So they crawled under and stood up on the other side, first thought in both their minds being to hide from the few guards patrolling.

And suddenly, the ninja uncloaked not five feet in front of them and drew his sword. His metal voiced rasped with a newfound malice. "Gentleman, I'm afraid I must now blatantly demonstrate that I've been playing you for complete idiots."

"Figures," Otacon shrugged, going for sarcasm to stay calm as a pair of armed guards ducked out from behind the piles of what were, hopefully, fake nuclear warheads. "Who trusts a ninja, anyway?"

On a hunch, Berto put the thermal goggles on for a second, chuckled, and tossed them away. To thermal vision, the ninja had no right arm. "And I trust _you_ even less._ Smiley._"

"So you finally figured it out. Well good," the ninja sheathed his sword, prompting the soldiers to step closer and level their guns. He touched a switch on the underside of his left forearm and the exoskeleton faded away under a glow of purplish energy like some warped-reality version of Josh's Transphasics. It left only the sword on Psycho's back and the brace with the switch. It wasn't entirely unlike Max's Biolink. Even the metal tinge in his voice vanished.

But his arm was still most certainly metal, a fact demonstrated by his claw folding down. "Because _quite frankly,_ I am damn sick and tired of this sneaking-around shit!"

The _snickt_ of a blade being pulled caught their ears. "Can I have this please, thank you!"

Psycho spun on his heels just in time for Kat to smash him in the head with the butt of his own sword. She hit flesh just behind his jaw, and Psycho tumbled away. Not to be deterred, Kat followed through and sliced the sword down, cutting one of the soldiers' guns in half before kicking him into the other.

"Kat?" Berto blinked.

"Don't just _stand_ there," she eyed the farther guards approaching, _"Move!"_

"Good idea!" Otacon pulled him by the arm toward the stairs at the left of the room, there were no guards on the upper walkway that led to the elevator.

Watching the guards, Kat flipped the sword around in her hand and hurled it like a javelin. It went clean through the heart of one of the soldiers, impaling him to the hilt before he even hit the ground.

To her side, Psycho hopped to his feet and went for her neck with his claw. But Kat was far quicker then the cyborg and crouched down under it as the metal clanged shut. A kick up to his chest knocked Psycho back a few feet, and she promptly took the opening to jump and kick him in the face.

On the other side of the room, Berto and Otacon made it to the elevator, something that didn't escape Psycho's notice. He watched the doors close, turned back to Kat, raised his arm... and touched the panel on his gauntlet. His optic camo came on, and Psycho, cackling the entire time, vanished into the room.

---

The elevator made a light 'bing' noise when it came to a stop on the second basement floor. Otacon and Berto ran a few steps out before realizing how ridiculous they were being.

"Wait, _Kat's_ here," Berto frowned, pulling his glasses off to wipe the sweat from his face.

"Which means _Snake_ is here and _Max_ is here, we don't _need_ to call for help," Otacon faceflopped.

Try as he might, Berto couldn't make it add up and he was having trouble thinking straight to begin with. "Ocelot... Psycho told Ocelot 'they're here.' He _knew_ they were here, so what did he bait us down here for?"

"Information?" Otacon thought aloud. "Hell... we won't know until we look... if this is just a training facility there shouldn't be any poison gas in that corridor."  
  
"There shouldn't have been a working torture chamber either..."

Fortunately, Otacon had been right and they had a clear run to the lab. He hesitated on the thought that it was _his_ lab, it really wasn't, but still, there were memories... he'd first met Sniper Wolf being shoved into his lab, after all.

Berto's face lit up for the first time since he awoke on Ocelot's floor when he caught site of the electronics in the room. It was the best-equipped lab he'd seen since the Feds had torn apart his Ops room at N-Tek.

"Total systems access," Otacon raised a finger and looked around, the memory a little fuzzy. He pointed to one of the terminals near the far wall. "_That_ one."

Berto was quick to sit down, the system was already active and going through an easily shut-down diagnostic. He started looking around while Otacon booted up his laptop on the theory he'd need it for _something._

"Get out! You can't be in here!"

"_That's_ interesting," Berto blinked. The voice was distinctly electronic and from the soundboard in the systems, but he hadn't seen anything like that coming.

"That sounds familiar," Otacon's brow furrowed. He couldn't quite place the voice, maybe someone he'd only met in passing...

"This is _more_ interesting," Berto's eyes darted across the information scrolling across the monitors. "Someone's hacked into the systems through a security hole..."

Squinting at a string of data, Otacon pointed a finger to the middle of the screen. "Look at that, that's no security hole, someone left an opening."

"A small one, just enough so it doesn't look intentional from outside." Berto thought on that for a second. "I know _Psycho_ doesn't have the brains to do that..."

Otacon confirmed his suspicion. "Neither does Ocelot, and Vamp, Vamp's had his brains blown _out_ a few times, but I doubt he does either. What's that?"

Bringing up the data, Berto made a face. He _hated_ timers, especially when they were counting down. "That can't be a good thing."

"You are correct," that same voice said again. This time, it was followed by an image on screen; a pair of boxes drew themselves on either side, underneath the dwindling timer, and a face appeared in each. One was a middle-aged man wearing a colonel's uniform, the other a brown-haired young woman.

"Whoa!" Otacon yelled, jumping back from the surprise, eyes wide with curiosity. "_Not_ possible."

"Quite, quite possible," Colonel told them.

"Who _are_ you?" Berto said, thinking it quite obvious there was a microphone somewhere, maybe a hidden camera.

Colonel turned into a x-ray image for a moment. "We are everywhere."

"We are nowhere," Rose added. "We are everything this nation is, and everything it will be."

"And _you_ should not be here," Colonel was adamant, his head turning as of to look at the countdown ticking away on the screen. It was down to five minutes. "You will die, and you would have been a good puppet."

"You would have been easy to manipulate. And you," Otacon froze; something about the way 'Rose' turned her 'head,' the program's emulation of movements like looking right at him gave him the creeps. "You _are_ easy to manipulate, but now you will die."

"This coming from a stupid AI progr- die? Wait, what IS that?"

"I know what it is," Berto drawled. Already, he was madly trying commands and on-the-fly coding to bypass the lockouts and get the timer. "There's a _real_ nuclear warhead here, isn't there?"

"Yes," both of the AI's personalities answered.

"A mistake by the he which orchestrated," Rose told them.

"He believed he could orchestrate our demise," Colonel said. "Imagine! Influence _us?_ _We_ are the Patriots."

"What?" Otacon said, more then a little confused at the nonsensically of it all. "But you're just a _program!_ A program that should be _gone,_ I might add..."

Rose gave the answer. "Only GW is gone; a minor setback. We are still here, and we still control. We are the reason for your lives, your jobs, your livelihoods, you all exist because of us, and we ensure it goes on, no matter what you think."

"Like hell," Otacon pushed his glasses up.

"Oh, they may be right," Berto slammed a fist down, bringing it up and biting down on his knuckles to focus on something while he thought. "I can't turn the thing off, they're locking me out wherever I go..."

The timer was down to three minutes.

"Please," Colonel raised an eyebrow, as if he were no more then fascinated. "Try to survive. The behavior of humans trying to scamper away from death is..."

Rose's eyes rolled back. "Intriguing."

"Screw you," Otacon closed his eyes, trying to think. "Wait.... I got it!"

Berto picked up on the same idea, and they both exclaimed, "Hack the AI!"

Except Berto wasn't entirely sure even that would work. "Wait, **I** can't do that in... two and a half minutes, something _this_ advanced?"

"Neither can I," Otacon dashed over to a familiar looking locker and flung it open, tossing equipment out of it like a Loony Toon. "Just get access!"

Not having any better idea, Berto worked on that. The AI was easy enough to trace; it only had one way to connect to the system here and only one way back. Its actual security was massive, but not the best he'd seen at all.

At the very back of the locker was the item Otacon sought for. Networking cable in hand, he ran back to the computers, dropped to the floor in a slide, knocked an access panel off and shoved one end into an interface port, plugging the other into his laptop as soon as he was on his feet.

"What are you doing?" Rose demanded.

"You can't reach us," Colonel said. "You _sister_ helped make us what we are, and she was far superior to you!"

"Shut up," Otacon roared, calling up another file his sister had built. He didn't mind the comparison, in fact, he'd _rather_ Emma be remembered like that: strong, good at what she did, _brilliant_... but he found it more then a little repulsive that this _thing_ dared even mention her.

Rose cocked her head. "And you won't destroy us. You _can't_ destroy us. We _shape_ the human race, we _know_ what is best for you because none of you do yourselves. Without us, you have no guidance, nothing to look up to. Ocelot may have betrayed us, but omnipresence gives us infinite options, infinite choices."

"That's God you're talking about," Berto deadpanned, putting more effort into his hacking then his feelings on the matter.

For once, the AI almost seemed at a loss for words. "No... we are..."

"Loud and obnoxious," Otacon cut Rose off. "Are you getting this file?"

"Just did," Berto said. A sense of accomplishment on his face, he clapped his hands together once and gave a thumbs-up. "_And_ I got through."

"Plant the file right in their system, execute it and cross your fingers."

"You must not," Colonel wasn't pleading, not in the strictest sense, but it was obvious that he was scared; if he could experience 'fear' in the human sense, that is. "If you kill us, all will be lost."

Rose jumped in. "If you take us offline, you will turn our position into a vacuum. You will have no guidance, only the overload of information that grows and power-mad, flawed _people_ baying for authority. Consider your actions carefully."

"You wanna know what I consider? I consider what Nietzsche said," Berto pressed 'enter.' "'God is dead!'"

The AI was instantly hit when the upload competed. The images flickered and their speech became garbled and laced with gibberish. Berto flipped the monitor off.

Meanwhile, it was Otacon's turn to nearly type faster then his keyboard could handle. But he had _plenty_ of experience in things involving the word 'nuclear,' and with the AI rapidly breaking down and unable to keep him out, it wasn't long before he made one last keystroke, fell backwards into a chair, and let out a triumphant "woo!"

He'd disarmed the weapon; the timer froze at forty-three seconds.

This amused Berto. "I'm officially impressed. Stopping it _long_ before one second? _That's_ skill."

"Feel free to bow down and lick my boots," Otacon smiled, his eyes counting the tiles on the ceiling. Snake be damned; the rush produced by pulling off an impossible h4x0r _had_ to be better then snapping someone's neck, if only by a little.

"What _was_ that program?" Berto asked.

"My sister made it," Otacon said. "It's a long story, but, see, there was this AI called 'GW' and we used that virus to kill it. It had those same personifications, and they were specially made to fool one person, so I figured one of these AI's must be based on the other..."

"Well hell," Berto gestured to the screens, "that thing definitely _worked._"

"Damn right, that's... my sister... smart girl. Good thing too, I couldn't take that Patriot... babbling... crap... Oh my God, of course," Otacon fell back into the chair, his head swimming. "That thing is... _was..._ and that blood sucking bastard led us _right here_ to do his own dirty work _for_ him... Ocelot is a high-ranking Patriot, the AI said 'Ocelot betrayed us.' Betrayed _us_. 'We _are_ the Patriots…'"

"You're saying... what, that thing is how they run the country," Berto looked at him, awaiting the pieces of information he wasn't privy too.

Otacon laughed at the absurdity of his revelations, feeling every bit like a mad scientist as he spun slowly in his chair. "Part of that virus is made to erase information about the Patriots, right? So I went over the program, I mean, if it's supposed to eliminate the information about the Wisemen's Committee, those are the highest Patriots, anyway, if it's supposed to eliminate the information then it has to _know_ what to eliminate, right?"

"So you found their names on the virus itself," Berto answered. It was what he'd have done; a smart little trick every good hacker resorted to when the owners of information didn't know just how many places their data was stored.

"Yeah, but they've been _dead for a hundred years, _give or take a few" Otacon's hands went to the back of his head and he tried pulling hair right out of his scalp, but it didn't actually work. "There were even other people on the list. Most of the actual founders were the original Sons of Liberty. Sam Adams, John Hancock... I thought it was just BS, some stupid hoax, but it's _not._ The Patriots censor _everything,_ including technology. The general public is so far behind in certain things, the mapping of the human genome, and probably _computers_..."

Berto caught on to what Otacon was getting at, but he couldn't accept it. He couldn't _believe_ it. "Are you saying what I _think_ you are? That's... I don't have a _word_ for that."

"Neither do I," Otacon muttered. "And Vamp _wanted_ us to get in and kill it... and the damn thing even _warned_ us about it. _That's_ why lower ranking Patriots get their orders through middlemen, no one could handle knowing what it all comes from."

"And since no one knows," Berto finished, horrified at what they'd done, "anyone can fill the hole; we just handed the United States to Psycho and his buddies."

"Christ, we should've let it kill us. Let's get outta here."

Berto couldn't have put it better himself. Closing his laptop and stuffing it under his arm, Otacon was quick to follow him to the door.

Except someone had decided to stand quietly on the other side, clearly waiting for them. Otacon let out a squeak as Ocelot snickered and pulled a gun; Berto, on the other hand, lost it... for just a second. In that second, he threw a punch square in Shalashaska's face and broke his nose before the marksman could even take aim.

Ocelot stumbled back, grabbing at his shattered nose in a vain attempt to stop the onslaught of blood. Berto didn't even feel the splat of red on his knuckles. "Revenge of the nerds, Cabron," he growled, breaking into a run with down the hall with Otacon.

But he'd really only succeeded in making Ocelot angry, and Ocelot lunged for them and swung his arm down, the butt of his colt hitting Berto square on the head an instant before he would've been too far away. Otacon skidded to a stop and looked back. Berto went down like a demolished building, but Ocelot suffered the same fate from following through too much with his swing.

Before Otacon could help Berto up, he suddenly found some sort of force wrapping around his waist.

Psycho dropped his stealth when he yanked Otacon off of his feet, claw fit snugly around the scientist. "Ya shouldn't piss off the Eggheads," Psycho rolled his eyes, chuckling at the blood running down Ocelot's chin. "They hit harder then your good ol' days."

---

"Wow, didn't save any for me, eh?"

"Huh?" Kat blinked, giving one last right hook to the soldier she was holding to his feet. "Took ya _long_ enough, Steel."

Looking around at the six prone guards, Max raised an eyebrow. "Hey, I had _nine_ chasing me through the service tunnel!"

He pointed a thumb to his back; Kat looked past him at an open doorway built into the wall, leading down into a simple corridor illuminated by hanging light bulbs.

"Well, that's the fun part about simulations," she smiled, grabbing a MAC-10 from one of the downed guards, "they always have shortcuts built in."

He shot her a look in response to the lack of sympathy, but it was in good fun. "Any luck?"

"Actually, _yes,_" she remembered, turning and dashing for the stairs. Max wasn't far behind. "I sent our geniuses down the elevator. I can't raise Snake, though, comms won't work."

"Same here," Max plucked the headset from his ear, looking at it for a second before shoving it in a pocket. "My guess is they've got radio jammed."

---

Somehow, Otacon had managed to keep clutching his laptop after Psycho had grabbed him, carried him to the commander's office, and tossed him at one of the chairs placed against the left wall. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to stop the chair from shattering under the impact and dumping him to the floor, and he wasn't able to stop his head from off the edge of the next chair and almost giving him a concussion.

Berto was just as bad off. Ocelot had kicked his knee from behind, and now that he was halfway to the ground, the marksman shoved a boot into his back and pushed him the rest of the way.

On the right side of the room, not far from the back door, Vamp stood _on_ the wall, one foot on the other knee and arms outstretched in a perfect balance. "Some of your guests have arrived, King."

Ordinarily, Otacon would've been fascinated by Vamp's latest method of violating the laws of physics, but he found his attention wandering to the chair enclosed in the u-shaped desk at the end of the office.

Vamp had said 'King.' From what Otacon could barely see at his angle, the man most certainly had an eye patch underneath a pair of sunglasses, and his face almost looked like... "Solidus?"

"An educated guess, Dr. Emmerich," King watched the babbling, deteriorating AI for a few more seconds, then he turned off the monitors. "And not _entirely_ off, but alas, no, my brother is quite dead."

Ocelot's arm twitched. Underneath him, Berto tried pushing himself up and was summarily rewarded with Ocelot's spur grinding into his burns, but he didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything except complete shock. He _knew_ that voice. His own mouth whimpered, "can't be... you're gone..."

"I see you remember me, Dr. Martinez," John Dread turned in his chair, his eyes, ever hidden behind his thin shades, meeting with Berto's. His hands were gloved in finger-less leather, such a stark contrast to the sophistication his wardrobe always showed that Berto wondered if he was going through a midlife crisis. "Come now, Psycho's been presumed dead, what, six times?"

"Seven, Boss," Psycho scratched his head. "I think."

"Yes," Dread smiled, pulling an optical disc from his computers. "The point being, of course, is that death is a... minor setback."

"Too bad you don't know firsthand," Berto spat. What interested him above all else was Dread's face; the scarring across his flesh was almost completely gone, only a few dark lines remained from his brush with the reaper. A new, fresh scar came down from his forehead and cleanly bisected his right eye under the patch, curving elegantly toward the edge of his lips at the bottom.

"I do," Vamp rolled a knife around his fingers, his feet stepping off the wall and to the floor so slow it seemed as though he were in water. "Not much of a difference between the other side and this one, really."

With a soft chuckle, Dread pulled the shades from his face and tore the eye-patch away, discarding it to the floor before taking a gulp of water from a bottle on the table. His left eye glinted a soft brown, but his right eye was tinted a light, glossy magenta where it should've been white, like the suspension fluid he had used for his own nanotechnology research, or whatever bastardized copy of Transphasics that Psycho's armor used.

Berto didn't want to acknowledge the theories about what was going on that his brain started cooking up. He didn't like where this was going at all.

To the side, Otacon pulled himself up on a chair. "What did you mean... 'my _brother_ is dead?'"

"Oh isn't it obvious?" Dread raised an eyebrow. He put the bottle of water down, flipping the cap like a coin once and tossing it away. "I'm a survivor of the 'Les Enfants Terribles' project too. The ultimate controlled experiment. Not that much came of it. As you can see, my outing to N-Tek was more disfiguring then dirt in the test tube."

Unflinching, Otacon pushed his glasses back up his nose. "So I guess even the Patriots' genetics were pretty crude back then."

"Brown wouldn't be my natural hair color otherwise," Dread chuckled. He put his shades back on. "Does Solid still dye his? I must confess I wouldn't want to remind myself of Liquid either... in any case, Ocelot, if you'd be so kind as to remove your heel from the good doctor's back and prepare our ride?"

Growling through his broken nose, Ocelot mashed Berto into the marble floor one last time for good measure and strode off through the backdoor. Determined to find an opening that would let him get the nanosword to Dread's neck, Berto dragged himself to his feet.

But he hadn't noticed that Vamp had moved behind him with his customary speed and stealth, abruptly feeling a cold hand grab his hair and yank his head to the side, an equally icy breath passing over is neck.

Still, Berto refused to give up. His hand moved farther down; if worse came to worse, he could always try shooting the Infinity Ice right into his veins. And it took him a few seconds to realize the rough surface scraping at his neck was Vamp's _tongue_ and not sandpaper. Keeping his eyes locked on Dread and giving his all to pretend Vamp wasn't there, he kept the conversation going. "So what are you supposed to be, then? 'Colloid Snake?'"

"No, my brothers were given the good aliases," Dread replaced his sunglasses. "I renounced the name_,_ as well as the heritage."

"Any objections, King?" Vamp asked, his other hand clamping down on Berto's wrist just before he could reach under his sweater for the injection gun.

"Not a one, we don't need them anymore. Do forgive me, Dr. Martinez," Dread sounded sincerely apologetic... for what it was worth. "But I find those that work for me are inspired to loyalty if they get what they want."

"Got that right, Boss," Psycho looked at Otacon, a deranged gleam in his red eyes. Otacon took a step back when Psycho's claw unfolded, but he had about as many places to go as Berto did.

Still behind his desk, Dread pulled _Luce_ from his belt and cocked the slide. "I consider it unfinished business."

The office's front door slid open, and Kat's voice promptly filled the room. "Dodge this!"

Half-surprised and half-intrigued, Vamp tried to turn around, but Kat pulled the trigger on her lifted Ingram long before he could draw a knife.

Before the shot even sounded, Dread stepped to his right and swept his arm to the side.

The bullet rang out and sprayed dark blood from the front of Vamp's head, a red mist that settled and stained the pristine marble. His grip on Berto softened and released, and the man fell to the floor, eyes wide in death.

Behind the back door, something metal clanged against metal. Once, twice, bouncing and banging. Dread's hand swiped over a particular spot on his desk, a motion sensor that lit up for just a second as the door exploded inward, slamming into Psycho and knocking him to the floor.

Snake leapt from the smoke with M4 pointed at Dread's head, quite ready to fire. Filing away her shock at seeing Dread alive for later, Kat pointed her own gun at his chest and squeezed the trigger.

And the light fixture above his head swung down, dumping the contents of the secret compartment it hid. Dread caught the elegant broadsword perfectly by the handle in his free hand as it fell. The massive blade was no Japanese katana or wakizashi, more like something a knight in medieval times would use, but nevertheless, he swung around and deflected the few remaining rounds from Kat's Ingram and promptly turned to shield himself from Snake's barrage.

Turning the sword with an air of elegance, Dread deflected every bullet in the M4's magazine; Snake went for a reload, and Dread took the opportunity to raise the heavy sword above his head. Particles of air around it shined blue and drew towards the high-frequency blade.

Snake cocked his gun as Dread brought his weapon down in a clumsy swing, unable to keep it steady with his other hand still holding _Luce_. The sword half-sliced and half-smashed his desk clear in half, and the bullets had no sooner left Snake's M4 then Dread was speeding through the shattered wood and across the room on the same leg gear that Solidus had had on his combat suit.

Kat was caught completely off guard. Had they been playing Hockey, Dread would've been penalized instantly for checking her so hard that she was knocked out the door. When it slid closed, Dread swung his sword once more, the very end slicing the card sensor on the doorframe, effectively locking Kat out.

Snake stepped along the edges of the flames Dread's gear made, watching them die down until he had a clear shot. But Dread simply dashed over to the side and threw Berto back to the floor, finally aiming _Luce_... but not at Snake, not at Berto, not even at Otacon, at the empty air past the dying fires, towards the offices' back-left corner.

He pulled the trigger: once, twice, three times, adjusting his aim for each shot. On the third one, Berto made out a feint distortion moving through the air. The bullet grazed it and, Max, his stealth compromised, turned visable as he dived out of the way.

"Long time no see, Mr. Steel." Holstering _Luce,_ Dread raked the tip of his sword across the floor and wrapped both hands tight around the handle, the leather of his gloves crunching against it. "A word of advice; don't snort in contempt of your enemies _while_ sneaking up on them."

Bringing the sword up, Dread pulled back. Berto looked from Max to Dread and back again.

"Max!" He didn't need to think; the nanosword was in his hand and turned on in an instant, and tumbling through the air as the blade formed a second later.

Dread blazed his trail across the room once more, his sword already in motion as he skidded toward Max. But Max, in turn, had gone into turbo mode at the same time. Just before Dread's HF blade struck, he caught the nanosword and swung.

The two swords met in the middle of their blows, one crackling with light blues in protest at its inertia being fought against and the other blazing green through the air, reliant on the suitably enhanced strength of its wielder to fight the massive weight forced down on it.

"Can't you _die_ right?" Max growled, shoving the broadsword back to Dread's face. Dread staggered and used the motion to spin around, the swords meeting with an almost unnaturally high pitched clang over and over.

"Now you're just _stealing_ lines," Dread skidded backward a few feet. He cocked his head towards Snake, noticing, among other things, that he had just shoved a grenade into his M4. "Enjoying your status as a role model, Solid?"

Max took the opening and kicked Dread clear into the corner before dropping out of turbo mode. His HF blade tumbled out of his hands, but it went with him and he picked it right back up. "Getting old, Dread? I guess the attention span's the first thing to go."

"Hardly."

"Kid, get _outta the way!_" Snake called. It wasn't a request; Max jumped to the side, clear of Snake's grenade only by a second when it shot from his rifle.

And Dread, a smile on his face, tossed his heavy blade ahead of himself, ran up the wall and around the corner before rocketing off, far clear of the ensuing explosion and catching his sword in midair to boot. He skidded to a stop at the other end of the room, blocked for the moment by the flames trailing him.

Snake pushed another grenade into the M4, fully intent on trying for a second shot. Before he could take aim, however, he found his arms bound by something large, tight and metal that promptly lifted him from the ground.

"It is four-thirty in the morning," Psycho voiced, disturbingly calm despite the mass of black-and-blue marks covering his normal arm and head from the impact of the door. "I have not slept since the fertilizer _insanity_ yesterday, and I am **so. Not. _In the mood. For bullshit."_**

With Dread currently out-of-bounds, Max decided to focus all of his attention on Psycho for the moment. But he didn't get the chance. Something distinctly plastic dropped to the floor behind him; the water bottle Dread had tossed away, the one nobody had noticed splash down on Vamp's chest.

The one no one noticed fall from Vamp as he stood, his face and hair soaked in watered-down blood. He grabbed Max before he could even turn, one hand keeping his arm and the nanosword away and the other pulling his head to the side.

Eyes wide, Max yelped when he felt Vamp's fangs sink into his neck. It didn't hurt, really, but he could _feel_ it, and he could feel Vamp sucking like his veins were a drinking fountain. He tried to get away or force him back, but the bloodsucker held fast.

"And _now_ who gets caught with his proverbial pants down," Dread commented, the inferno next to him giving out.

But he hadn't been referring to Max. Intoxicated by the taste of Max's enhanced blood, Vamp let his guard down for a brief moment, and in that moment, Berto and Otacon literally jumped into the fray and tackled him clear off of their compatriot.

Nearly falling on his face, Max caught himself from stumbling over and grabbed at his neck. Already, there were no signs of Vamp's snack left, the Max Probes having done their job, but he felt light-headed. It would be a minute before he felt the compensation for blood loss. All in all, he'd had worse... even if the experience itself was far down the 'worse' end.

Vamp was quick to toss the two scientists away, but he did nothing more save watch Snake struggle against Psycho's grip. Snake, on the other hand, had another idea; he could still reach his belt, and after twisting his arm in near unnatural ways, he managed to grab an honest-to-god stun gun he'd started to carry for this very occasion and jam it against Psycho's claw.

His sneaking suit didn't conduct electricity, but Psycho's arm sure did; the entire battery discharged into the metal and shocked the hell out of him, dropping Snake from his grip and dropping Psycho to the floor.

"And then there was one," Dread mused.

"Soon to be none," Snake drew his SOCOM, the M4 forgotten.

Dread held up the disc he'd taken for himself. "No matter, Solid. Since your friends were so kind as to utterly annihilate the Wisemen's Committee, lead me to the S3 data _and_ Arsenal Gear, I'm quite finished. And, _Brother..._ you'll _never_ find the Gurlukovich child."

Snake didn't hear the second part. "Brother _this!_"

"I think not." Way ahead of Snake, Dread pressed his back to the wall underneath the monitors and flattened his hand to a single tile that stood out against the otherwise solid color.

"Stop him!" Max charged Dread, hearing the mechanism before anything could be seen, but he wasn't fast enough; the wall spun around like a classic secret door, taking Dread with it and sealing tight. There was no switch on this side.

From the floor, Psycho turned on his optic camouflage before he even stood back up, and he was gone out the back door. Vamp had vanished as well.

He would be too fast to catch if he used the exoskeleton, and he was smart enough to realize that, so Max turned and kicked the front door down; Kat was long gone, most likely getting the Helifoil. Unless some _major_ changes had been made, Dread and his troupe wouldn't be able to get away without being seen from the air, and the three of them didn't need to talk it over to agree on it.

Both of them guessing they would have a helicopter, Snake and Max made a mad dash for the landing pad on the other side of the tank hanger.

And there they found Dread, standing alone on top of the large painted H, his back to them and one hand holding the other wrist behind his back as he looked out to the sea. His sword was stabbed into the ground at his right.

Snake walked around the cargo truck, flanking him as Max approached from behind, neither making an attempt to be silent.

"Your persistence is always impressive, Mr. Steel," Dread drew _Luce _and _Ombra_ as he turned, one aimed at his genetic twin and one aimed at Max.

"You think you can _hit_ me with that?"

"No," Dread answered. "It would be fun to try, but I simply don't have the time."

"You got _that_ right," Max stepped toward him, almost _daring_ him to take a shot.

But Dread simply holstered _Ombra, _his other weapon still aimed at Snake, a distinct laugh working its way up his throat. "The irony here is _rich_, Mr. Steel. It's disturbing how similar you are to your father, despite never knowing him."

Max knew, of course, that he meant Jim McGrath, and that made him even angrier. And then he wondered... "What do _you_ know about my father?"

His eyebrows raised, Dread honestly felt surprised. Keeping one eye on Max and one on his brother, Dread reached into his back pocket and puled out an ordinary-looking wallet, possibly the one thing he had owned that didn't give him away as a crazed terrorist, Josh thought. "Jefferson never told you? I thought he would want to get it off his chest once he thought I was gone... or maybe he just wanted to bury it for good."

Flipping to a single, weathered photograph, he held it up the way policemen flashed their badge.

A little voice told Max he should ignore it, that it was just bad news, or _fake_ bad news made to throw him off... but his curiosity got the best of him and he zoomed in to see it. The picture burned into his eyes, the implication almost too much for him to bear. "You're lying."

"Am I?" Dread smiled. "Your mother took the picture just after you were born, she said it was too good to forget... looking back, it _was_ a nice moment. But it was a long time ago, back when I thought N-Tek had a chance of fighting _them,_ when my name was still Marco Nathanson..."

Confused, Snake looked in the goggles that sent him Max's Biolink image. He blinked. "Ew... _that's_ a scary thought."

A frown painted Dread's face. "You never tire of your rhetoric, do you, Solid?"

"When you're all dead, then I'll get tired," Snake quipped, studying the picture as Max continued to stare. It was most certainly a hospital, the room just had that look, and Snake could see the edge of the bed it was taken from. To the far left was a man he didn't recognize, sitting on a stool next to the bed and trying not to laugh. To the right was a decades-younger Jefferson Smith, and he _was_ finding the scene funny.

Smack in the middle stood John Dread himself, two decades younger, the same brand of sunglasses he wore today being violently yanked off by the baby in his arms; the baby with a full head of blond hair.

Max wanted to throw up.

Putting the goggles away, Snake looked at his latest long-lost brother with nothing but scorn. "Nowhere to go, you... where _are_ you on the gene pool, anyway? More disease-ridden combos then Liquid? Or did you get an extra set? Too many Xs, maybe?"

Dread's first reaction was a chuckle... and then a full on hysterical laugh as he holstered _Luce,_ put his wallet away and took up his sword.

And then he simply became quiet for a split second, turning around and running towards the elevator that would lead down the caverns Snake had used to enter the real Shadow Moses.

Max gave chase, and Snake took a shot at him, but Dread simply leaned into his run and blazed away. Dashing along the edge of the flames, Max skidded to a stop when his target skidded _past_ the elevator and leapt elegantly over the cliff. _"Dread!"_

Snake started to walk over... but he and Max wasted no time in backing off _very_ quickly when Metal Gear RAY burst out of the water below, springing into the early morning air and landing perfectly on the cliff's edge.

Vamp stood still on one of Metal Gear's shoulders, not phased by the fact that it wasn't exactly meant as a walkway. Dread and Psycho stood on the other, leaving Ocelot for the cockpit.

"Deny it all you want, _Brother_," Dread called down, Metal Gear looking straight at them, "Big Boss is a part of us both, and it makes us more alike then brothers have a _right _to be! We were born to die and we die to live, Solid!"

"Oh _shut up,_" Snake yelled back. A huge metal crate thudded to the ground next to him, but he didn't seem surprised; he just kicked the top open and hefted the Stinger launcher to his shoulder.

In the air, Kat turned the Helifoil around, deciding she wanted plenty of room to maneuver if RAY even _looked_ in her direction.

And Snake took a shot. Metal Gear stumbled when the missile impacted its knee, the rust-colored goop oozing out over the hull breach almost instantly. Vamp caught Psycho from falling off the top, and Dread managed to keep his footing; but there was no sign of retaliation; Snake didn't think Ocelot had any way of rearming the thing after he and Liquid had totally wasted its payload.

This time, he painted Dread himself with the Stinger's laser guide and pulled the trigger.

Dread, for his part, didn't flinch when he saw the missile heading for him. Simply drawing his sword up, he waited patiently. It glowed brightly the instant before the missile reached him, and he swung.

It _looked_ like he'd hit it, but Snake wasn't sure. For the briefest of moments, it looked like Dread had killed himself when his sword flashed a bright blue. But the Stinger missile curved around in midair, wobbling on its course a little before heading right back where it came.

Snake had seen a lot in his time, but this took the cake. "Can anyone remember when all you had to do was _shoot_ the bad guy?"

He and Max ran away from each other, hearing the missile impact the ground they'd just been standing on.

Metal Gear plodded around, turning back to the cliff and gently hopping back into the sea.

---

Kat didn't give anyone else a chance to sit in the Behemoth's pilot seat as soon as everyone was back aboard. Josh was disturbed, Snake was strung out, Otacon was shaken, and Berto had shut himself in what used to be his mobile Ops room.

All in all, the atmosphere was so laden with stress that it could be cut with a knife, shot with the Stinger, and stomped on by RAY without being dented at all. And she'd thought just _seeing_ Dread had been bad enough.

If there was any redeeming factor, it was that no one was taking out their various angers on others, something she was grateful for when Josh plopped into the co-pilot's seat. On the other hand, Kat tried never to keep her mouth shut. "What's buggin ya, McGrath? And I mean _besides_ the obvious."

"I don't want to talk about it," he answered, looking out the side window. "Let's just say I need to ask Dad about something..."

Farther back in the plane, Snake held a door open, looking at Berto as he slept on the floor, curled up with his knees to his chest. But his face looked anything but relaxed, more like he was in pain. Snake had a pretty good idea why. "Ocelot got to'em?"

"Yep," Otacon confirmed, pulling his glasses off as he tried to process everything that had happened. "Let him rest, he deserves it."

"Hmm, no," Snake shook his head, some of his own buried memories digging up through the dirt. He watched Berto shiver out of fright from whatever Hell his dreams were putting him through for another moment, and closed the door. "He doesn't."

---

Thanks to Princess Artemis for dialog help, and Ellen Brand for letting me shamelessly rip off some of her Dread material. 8)

The ref list:

-_Luce_ and _Ombra_ are from Devil May Cry. No, the sword is _not_ supposed to be Alastor.

-Kat's "dodge this" is from The Matrix, and if you need me to tell you that, boy do you watch the wrong movies.

-Dread's philosophizing to Snake contains a quote from Russell Nelson.


	8. Chapter VIII

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear Solid (or anything Metal Gear for that matter,) and I don't own Max Steel. My profit from this is an exact figure of zero dollars.

Metal Gears, Nanoprobes, and a Word from our Sponsor

Chapter VIII

by Alhazred

madarab20@hotmail.com

http://www.rockettownonline.com/~alhazred

Josh was fully awake in an instant when some of the early morning's events came back to him. His hand slapped against his neck without conscious thought, and he was more then a little relieved to see he wasn't bleeding profusely or, an absurd idea but worse, wanting someone _else_ to have that wound for his own benefit.

And he had _such_ a crick in the back from falling asleep sitting at the table.

"Freak took a chunk outta you," Snake chuckled. "Maybe this nanoprobe thing isn't bad after all. **I** wouldn't mind losing that much blood and walking away like nothing."

"You pay for it later," Josh smiled grimly, flipping the button on his watch to expand the Biolink and check his T-Juice levels. "I spend more quality time with the generator then I did with my last girlfriend. I _miss_ the big generator."

"Most people would say 'I miss my _girlfriend_,'" Snake grinned. "But I shouldn't talk. Mine are always trying to kill me. _Otacon's_ tried to kill me."

"Naomi was _not_ your girlfriend, Snake," the aforementioned Otacon walked into the room. The edge of his lips curled into a grin. "Although, she _was_ pretty… but not as pretty as Wolf..."

"Hey, she wanted me to strip search her." He defended himself. Otacon raised an eyebrow at him. "This was before we met."

"So, Snake," Otacon pushed his glasses up. "We, um… killed the Wisemen's Committee."

"Really?" Snake blinked. "Finally pulled the trigger on something?"

Otacon rolled his eyes, almost saying 'as if.' "Well, no, it was a computer program. Kinda like GW, and we nuked it with E.E.'s virus."

"Ouch," Snake said. Then he thought about it. And he thought about it some more. And it became perfectly obvious what Dread had wanted Berto and Otacon for in the first place. _"You **what?**"_

"I didn't know what we were doing!" Otacon raised his arms and near-freaked out, anything but eager to be reminded of it. "They were gonna kill us! The idiots kept a real nuclear weapon on the island and the stupid AI tried setting it off!"

"Oh," Snake blinked. "Well, that woulda sucked."

Josh blinked, "I don't get it. What does it matter?"

"That stupid AI ran the country, to put it simply," Otacon thought aloud. "Now that it's gone, there's a power vacuum. And I'd bet money our friends the Peanut Gallery filled the space in as soon as that thing went down."

Thinking of the early morning's events, Josh decided to get more information. "So what's the S3?"

Deadpanning, Snake rolled his eyes. "Oh, that."

"Not something Snake is particularly proud of," Otacon added, knowing Snake would be unresponsive. He started mocking Ocelot, voice as well as body language. "The S3 is training exercise designed to produce soldiers on par with Solid Snake."

"Don't remind me," Snake grumbled. "Actually, it's simple. They stage a terrorist incident rigged to simulate Shadow Moses, except you don't know. And the terrorists don't know. But it all comes together like a neat little report, assuming the poor bastard being run through it survives."

Shoving his glasses up, Otacon continued. "The idea is, putting someone through a mock-up of Shadow Moses, in the real world with real goals and consequences, shapes said someone into Snake: skilled, quiet, quick and without hesitation. No offense, Snake."

But Snake merely shook his head. "None taken."

"That's what Ocelot said, anyway," Otacon went on. "We know the first test subject and… well, it worked. Perfectly. He can be that when he wants to, _if_ he wants to. Just like Snake."

Josh stared at them for a second, noticing that Kat and Berto had entered and listened to the explanation from the doorframe. "That's sick."

"Yeah," Snake nodded. "But then, so was cloning the world's best soldier to do some twisted version of Captain America in the first place. Heh, like he said, 'we're born to die and we die to live.'"

Shooting everyone a questioning look, Otacon said, "speaking of which, John Dread-slash-Marco Nathanson, the who-what-why-where-_how_ in-the-what now?"

"_Down_ Otacon," Snake sat down himself. "Actually, if anyone understood a word of that, I'd like to know myself."

Josh simply slid back in his chair and growled. Kat took the cue and rolled her eyes. "Benevolent dictator type, he thinks he knows how to run the world better then everyone, that kinda thing."

"Great," Snake commented. "Another Solidus. And we _handed_ him the capability."

"You seem kind of," Berto started, "blasé for someone asking about their long lost brother."

"Brother like _hell,_" declared Snake. "Besides, I've been through this evil twin thing before. _Twice._ It doesn't surprise me anymore. It pisses me off and I want to put a bullet through his head because he's just as bad as Liquid and Solidus, yes, but it doesn't surprise me."

"I _like_ that image," Josh said. "Well, now we know who's paying off Smiley, too."

"How'd he get Vamp?" Otacon scratched his head. "Ocelot I can understand, the AI said Ocelot betrayed them, but Vamp's just..."

"Probably has nothing left," Snake surmised. "You know, I _don't_ get Ocelot, he would have to have a _reason_ to switch camps."

Josh thought on that. "Dread's been at his nanotechnology again. I wonder if…"

He trailed off, not knowing how to finish, but Berto picked up on it. "How _does_ Liquid Snake live in his _arm?_ Maybe Dread told Ocelot he could get him out or something… he probably staged his whole attack on N-Tek so he could _finally_ get to our research data while we freaked out about the generator."

"Okay, so, we've done what exactly," Kat jumped in, "we've given _Dread_ and his loser friends control of the United States, and he used us to get some data on making more Snakes. God help us on _that,_ question is, why?"

"I'll choose to ignore that," Snake crossed his arms, slightly insulted.

"Well, assuming he's not lying on being your brother-" Otacon began, but Snake cut him off.

"He's not."

Never able to understand how Snake could trust his gut feelings and on-the-battlefield truths so much, Otacon went on. "Maybe he's got some inferiority complex like Liquid. Except he wants to _be_ you instead of kill you."

"That's disturbing," Snake blinked. Josh opened his mouth, but he changed his mind on saying anything. No, Dread wasn't foolish like that. The trouble he went through to get what he wanted… it wasn't for something trivial.

"Heh," Otacon wondered about it all. Finally, he decided he was sick of being serious for the moment. "Not half as disturbing as what I found on the Internet last week."

Josh could recall a few occasions when Berto had said the same thing. "I'm afraid to ask."

"So am I," Snake narrowed his eyes at his partner.

Kat often found amusement in not backing down when others became worries. "Bring it."

"Remember fanfiction.org, Snake?" Otacon smiled the smile people wore when they were too afraid to say 'don't kill the messenger.'

Cringing at the very name, Berto said, "bane of the web..."

"It has a section for Nastasha's book now," finished Otacon.

"Oh God," Snake's head thudded to the table while Josh, wisely, kept his mouth shut and didn't bring the information into his Internet-ignorant brain any faster then needed.

Growing glum, Otacon added, "and the first story posted involves you, me and hardcore yaoi."

"I do not need that image," Berto whined, his face falling into his hands. Josh decided to be happy that he had _no idea_ what they were talking about, but Kat was starting to feel like she was approaching a car wreck.

"You know what, I change my mind," Snake banged his head again. "_Let_ someone censor digital information."

"And you were the uke."

In the next instant, Otacon had succeeded in getting Snake out of his chair faster then if he'd pointed a gun at his face. _"You read it?!"_

And Otacon also wondered why he'd been stupid enough to bring this up. "Well... um... it was so... _there..._"

"Oh _that's_ a good excuse," Snake glared at him.

Nudging Kat with his elbow, Berto motioned toward his room and they both discreetly walked off.

"Otacon, how _could_ you," Snake demanded. "That crap is bad enough as it is without you _reading_ it! I'll _assume_ it's not because you wish it wasn't fiction."

"It most certainly is not!" the engineer huffed, crossing his arms.

But Snake wanted more then to chew him out, he wanted one, simple, solitary thing; revenge. "Oh, I forgot, I'm not related to you or an armed terrorist, I guess I couldn't turn you on if I tried. Not that I _want_ to try."

"That is a _low blow,_" he jabbed a finger at him. Josh, meanwhile, kept his mouth shut and just turned to one or the other as they talked.

"Normal women, Otacon, you need _normal_ women. Or normal men, should I say?"

Otacon gabbed a handful of pens from his pocket and hurled them at Snake's head, hoping one might poke his eyes out. Snake simply tilted his head to the side and let them go by. "_I'm_ not the one who had the hots for Roy Campbell's daughter, _or_ that singer chick you told me about!"

"At least Meryl wasn't-" Snake started to say. He stopped when the voices of the two who had so recently left floated into the room.

"There is no way the author that wrote this has _ever_ had sex," Kat's voice laughed.

"They probably think so," Berto's voice was followed by the click of a mouse. "Hey, look, it's illustrated."

"That position is _impossible!_" Kat started laughing.

Following her lead, Berto chuckled, "I wouldn't know, I've never seen a gay couple in bed..."

Dashing around the table, Snake and Otacon skidded to a stop in front of Berto's room, but Snake immediately wished he hadn't; his monitors, and the image displayed on one of them, were easily visible from the doorway.

"Jesus Christ!" Snake shielded his eyes. "Turn it off, for crying out loud, _turn it off!_"

Otacon hadn't actually _seen_ that particular picture, and he turned a bright shade of red at the sight. The artwork was very... flattering.

"I think I'll do that," Berto nodded, closing the window _without_ actually looking back to it. "That's _one_ Temporary Internet File that's getting deleted..."

Madly shaking his head and waving his hands in front of his face in a vain attempt to get the image out of his head, Snake said, "Now that I _won't sleep for a week,_ can we get something to eat? _Please?_"

"Works for me," Kat answered. "So. Who's up for pizza?"

Snake and Otacon let out a resounding "Yes!"

They promptly left Berto's room, intent on claming the phone, wherever it was. It hadn't yet occurred to them that neither had any idea _what_ the phone number to the nearest pizza parlor was. Or Snake, perhaps, didn't care.

Shoving off from her position leaning against the wall, which had provided an exemplary view of Berto's monitors, Kat gave his back a nudge with her elbow. "Usual for ya, Berto?"

He drew in a sharp breath, his hand hitting the desk and pushing on it so hard the wood creaked. For a moment, he didn't say anything, and he didn't see the questioning look Kat threw in his direction.

"Berto?"

"Uh, no," he finally said, "no, nothing for me. I'm... gonna go grab a shower."

He stood in short order and quickly walked away, obviously realizing that he'd tipped her off to whatever was wrong. He could _feel_ the frown on her face.

Josh, meanwhile, was still absent and just hanging up the phone when Otacon and Snake came looking for it. "Phone, Kid. Time for food."

Josh looked almost... disturbed. "Eh, you guys get something, I need to go drop in on Dad, blatantly unannounced."

Kat walked out just in time to hear that and raised an eyebrow. Unannounced? Who was he talking to on the phone, then? Josh had as much skill at hiding bad vibes as Berto had a fashion sense. _Has everyone in the place besides me gone nuts?_

"I want Chinese!" Otacon yelled.

"Otacon, I'm gonna hit you. Gimmie that phone!" Snake chased him around the table; no small feat considering half of it was a booth.

What am I saying? Everyone else has **always** been insane...

Josh was out the door first, and Berto left soon after they could hear the Helifoil taking off, a change of clothes over his shoulder.

Kat's curiosity got the better of her.

---

Halfway to his destination, Josh became unsure of himself. Three-quarters of the way, he regained his resolve.

In front of the door, he lost it again.

Just inside the door, he decided it didn't matter how he felt, he was going to get his answers no matter what.

"Josh?" His father stared at him, confused. He usually called first, after all. "What's up?"

Josh didn't give him an answer, he gave Jeff his own question. The look on his face and the edge in his voice conveyed that quite well. "Marco Nathanson."

"What about him?" Jeff blinked, tossing the paperwork in his hand to the side of his desk and lacing his fingers together, obviously realizing that he wasn't going to like this.

"You _knew._"

Josh was, if anything else, _very_ eager to get to the point. Jefferson, on the other hand, nearly had a heart attack when he realized just what Josh was talking about. "What?"

"Don't _bullshit_ me Dad," Josh shot back, his hand unclenching from the fist he hadn't realized he was making. "Just... don't..."

Suddenly wishing he'd never gotten out of bed this morning, Jeff decided he certainly didn't even need to ask what Josh was talking about anymore. But he didn't have a very good answer, either. "He's dead... it just... seemed like a good idea to forget about it."

"Yeah?" Josh snorted. "I'll give you one guess whose demise has been greatly exaggerated."

"No," said Jeff, flat-out in denial. He absolutely refused to believe that Dread was alive, not after everything they'd been through.

"Berto still records my Biolink, I'll go back and _get the video_ if you want."

Jefferson scowled and fell into his chair. "I _really_ shouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning... so who told you, _he_ told you? Bastard's mouth just gets bigger."

"Well it certainly wasn't coming out of Smiley's big mouth," Josh glared at him. His feelings were so mixed on the matter he couldn't be calm and he couldn't seethe about it. He could just think back to those mission records Jim McGrath had kept, how he'd talked about his work and his friends. "He was like a _brother_ to you _both_! How can you not-"

"Like I need **you** to tell me that!" Jeff didn't let him finish, going into full parental mode. "Get that damned idea that I was born yesterday out of your head! I _lived_ that! You think I didn't _feel_ the knife in my back the first time I _saw_ 'John Dread?'"

"I..." Josh started, suddenly at a loss for words. It occurred to him that he'd been yelling at his father for the wrong reasons... like Jeff had said, that was part of _his_ life, after all. But it just made him loath Dread even more, that he betrayed his fathers like that... "He was _holding_ me Dad... he showed me... _in his arms..._"

Josh flopped into the chair in front of Jeff's desk, and Jeff's blood pressure came down in tandem with Josh's temper. "I remember that... heh... hell, she took another picture of what he looked like after he volunteered to watch you while they went out."

"Dad, please," Josh's face fell into his hands, "this is disturbing enough as it is."

"You gave him a black eye."

"Tell me more!" Josh perked up.

"And his hair was white, but he wouldn't say what you threw at him." Jeff _almost_ smiled, the old memories conflicting with the recent past so much it was maddening. "Of course, **I** had the job after that and you threw a _wrench_ at me."

"A wrench?" Josh blinked.

Rolling his eyes, Jeff added, "sometimes I wonder just _how_ long you've had those damn probes."

"Uh... Dad," Josh looked at the floor, then at the ceiling. "There's... another reason I came by."

"Uh oh," Jeff went stiff, expecting something horrid and mentally scarring. "What?"

"Well," Josh drawled, suddenly afraid for his life. "It... kinda violates every shred of ethics we have... and I don't _want_ to, I really _don't,_ but I _swear_ there's no other way."

Jeff went total deadpan. "Josh. Spit it out."

So he did.

Outside the office, Jefferson's secretary was going about her business, totally unflustered by the previous shouting. It was normal, after all.

She was, however, startled into falling out of her chair when Jeff's voice raised to humanly impossible heights with a resounding **_"WHAT!"_**

---

If someone had told Berto he would _intentionally_ put himself through the trauma of showering in a public locker room used by even _more_ jocks then the one in high school, he would've laughed. The tiny shower built into the van was small, but not so small that he minded.

At the moment, however, he was supremely grateful that the DOX _had_ such facilities. And that peak usage time had been an hour ago, so there was no on around to stare at the patches of burns across his back and arms. Maybe getting home from being tortured at 6:00am and trying to sleep until the afternoon wasn't such a bad thing, really.

On that thought, he turned the water to its coldest, letting the icy temperature blissfully numb his back over for a minute before he shut it off and grabbed his towel.

Someone was leaning on the lockers not far from the bench that he'd set his clothes on, but that wasn't really a problem. He could throw his shirt on without turning his back, easy. First things first, though, he reached for his glasses sitting in the middle of his clothes.

And then he promptly had a heart attack as he clearly saw just _who _was nearby. _"Kat?!"_

She snorted and held back a laugh. "Nice towel, Martinez."

After turning an interesting shade of red and grabbing the towel at his waist as if gravity had doubled, Berto glared daggers back at her. "This is _not_ a co-ed locker room!"

"I missed the part where that's my problem," she gave him a look that clearly meant 'we're having words whether you like it or not.' "By the way, nice scorches, too. I'd say 'burns' but you might hear that as something else and, frankly, I stopped looking _long_ before your pants came off."

His conversational skills utterly overwhelmed by what she was talking about more then his current state of being, Berto stopped looking her in the eye. But he didn't turn his back to her.

"So. You were planning on saying anything," Kat's eyebrows went up. "When?"

"I thought... Otacon..."

"Oh, he _told_ us Ocelot had his fun, alright," Kat waved her finger; for some reason, it made Berto think of Franz Kafka. "He neglected to tell us you're in serious need of the world's largest _Band-Aid_ and I fully intend to kick his ass for that later."

He blinked at her.

"Look, Berto, I know," she paused, a sigh escaping her lips. Se really _hated_ remembering the crap she'd done and suffered through years ago. "I know it hurts. And I don't mean the burns. But there _is_ this thing called 'medical attention,' and in case you haven't noticed, you _need_ it.'"

"You're _kidding,_ right?" he exclaimed, suddenly terrified. "What do you expect me to _say?_ 'Oh, thanks for seeing me Doctor, I was _electrocuted _on a slab of metal by a conspiracy theory?'"

Getting that evil grin she'd perfected over time, Kat answered, "No, I don't expect you to do that, I just except you to appreciate my first aid skills." She cracked her knuckles, remembering the... excellent job she'd done, taking care of him when he spread the flu around the jungle that time. "_After_ you get dressed."

In point of fact, Berto wondered, for the first time, how he was going to _do_ that with Kat staring at him.

---

"I can't believe they left us with nothing."

Snake glared at Otacon with his best impersonation of Death. "I can't believe _you_ never bothered to tell me we're broke."

"Well then!" Otacon pointed at him, "I can't believe... um... I can't believe you're complaining since _this_ is free!"

"Wanton Soup, Hal."

Pouting, Otacon longed for Chinese takeout, a feeling that Snake had just reminded him of. The DOX buffet, while free and located in a fairly spacious establishment, was comparable to a high school's cafeteria. After barely managing to swallow a bite of genuine hockey-puck cheeseburger, Otacon decided to switch topics. "So. What do we do?"

"Hell if I know," Snake rested his head in one hand, eyes wandering to the ceiling. "Hmm. We're pretty much screwed if we can't find Arsenal and get to it."

"I don't get it, _why_ does he want that... thing? Soli- you're _other_ brother was smart enough to realize it's a big joke," Otacon said.

"I doubt he wants it for a weapon." Snake answered. Solidus had been smart, yes, but Dread seemed to be thinking more for the long term. "He probably wants it so he can disappear and run the world while not existing."

"That's another thing I don't get, if he's seized control you'd think there'd already be orders sent to every possible government organization to come right here and arrest us," Otacon concluded. Snake wondered if _any_ of his twins had ever _thought_ of leading a normal life. "Unless they don't want a big... fuss... you know, the Patriots depend on secrecy to work. It doesn't matter who's running it, if people know, it _can't_ work."

"Uh-oh. What are you suggesting?"

That mad look in his eye, Otacon almost stood up to demonstrate his plan in interpretive dance. "Think about it. You're registered to compete here for our cover, right? And Vamp's team is still here, which means _he_ is. This stuff is broadcast over ESPN or something, so we get you on camera…"

"Wait a minute here…"

"…drop hints that you're So- that you're _you_, get the whole world paying attention and _bam,_ we blow the whole thing open on national television!"

Resisting the urge to get up and bolt a plate of metal over Otacon's mouth, Snake motioned for him to lower his voices. "One problem, Yaoi Boy; we dunno where they are, we don't know where Arsenal Gear is, and this is _besides_ the fact that I'm supposed to be _dead_ and that's the _only_ thing stopping a federal manhunt for our asses. No one cares about _you._"

"Gee, thanks," Otacon huffed, pushing his glasses up. "So we just _find_ Arsenal. It can't be _that_ hard, I mean, it must be close by if they were holed up on that island waiting for the AI to lose it."

"Riiiight, we can go looking with the submarine hanging off my left ear," Snake rubbed his temples. Otacon was right; they _were_ close and it pissed him off to know end that they were, at the same time, so far away. "Actually, maybe it _is_ that simple. I mean, the kid's got his tie to N-Tek, maybe we can ask nicely to borrow a submersible."

Shaking his head, Otacon shot the idea down. "No go. N-Tek doesn't have any submarines, I checked their inventories when I first hacked in. If they _had_ any, the FBI must've impounded them."

"What a surprise," Snake answered. Everything came back to the Patriots… strange, how they'd shut N-Tek down and Josh had never heard of them. Why had they bothered? If N-Tek wasn't endangering them, wasn't it just setting up a sign that said "Patriots This Way?"

"Okay, that leaves Plan B," Snake rubbed his chin, "wring the answers out of Vamp."

Scratching his head, Otacon said, "well, we're not gonna do _that_ on camera."

"No, I don't think we'll have to," Snake turned his head toward the nearest wall. They'd sat down near a bulletin board for DOX announcements and the like; one poster in particular caught his interest.

Otacon followed his eyes. "You _can't_ be serious... you're serious."

"Find me a tux."

---

"So the DOX season is over with this weekend, ri- ow!"

"Sorry," Kat's face turned genuinely apologetic, though Berto couldn't see it with his back to her. He could, however, smell whatever it was she'd spread on the bandages before covering the scorches on his skin. "Christ, that was a _big_ one... keep drinking."

"Yes Ma'am!" Berto took a gulp from one of the three bottles of water she'd forced on him for emphasis. "Do you have to _describe _my blisters?"

"Cut me some slack here," she jabbed her elbow into the small of his back, where the heat had barely reached. "I'm used to _wrapping_ wounds, not covering them gently..."

Chuckling, Berto said, "yeah, 'gentle' was never your strong point, huh?"

"I'll choose to let that one slide," she smiled, tearing one more piece of tape from the roll and putting the bandage on him. "One more should do it, spot looks worse then the others."

"It _feels_ worse," Berto whimpered, feeling the air sting that area of his back more now that the rest of it and his arms were covered. He sniffed at the scent of medicine in the air. "What _is_ that stuff?"

"You _don't_ want to know," she deadpanned. In truth, she didn't think he wanted to know that she was using a butter knife to spread it. Improvisation was funny like that. She was _positive_ he didn't want to know how she'd gotten all the bandages. "How's it feel?"

"Better," he had to admit. The stuff felt like ice, and numbness was good as far as Berto was concerned. He felt _very_ numb, in fact, as soon as the door opened and a sigh carried on the air; it was Josh, he could tell.

"The things I do for the world," he said to himself, heading for the kitchen. "Anyone home? Kat? Ber... Berto?"

Josh hadn't been expecting _this_ sight when he walked in, of that much was certain. Berto, sitting backward in a chair at the table, his very _bandaged_ arms suddenly wrapping tighter around the back, and Kat sitting behind him, one more bandage flat in her hand, one large burn showing on his shoulder blade, not yet covered.

"Heh, hey, where'd you run off to, Hermano?" Berto said, his head turning to look out the window.

"Berto..."

"I don't wanna talk about it!" he snapped, almost knocking Kat over as he bolted out of his chair, pulling his shirt on as fast as he dared once Kat had taped the last bandage over his back. "You couldn't have waited _ten_ more seconds, could you!"

Completely floored and at a total loss for words, Josh could do nothing except let his mouth hang open. He had no idea what to say, he'd just run off and done God knows what, as far as they were concerned, when there more important things he'd totally looked over. He hadn't even _thought _of Berto over his own demons, and those suddenly seemed a lot smaller.

Calming down, Berto leaned against the table and looked at the floor. "Sorry, Hermano..."

Snake's voice came from outside, fast approaching the door. "I'm telling you, it's too small..."

Even Berto forgot about the issue at hand when Snake walked in, decked out in a spotless tux, the bow tie hanging out around his neck, his partner walking in behind him with a 'whatever' look on his face.

"Snake," Otacon sighed, reaching up to the other's neck as soon as he turned. "It's a bow tie, it _can't _be too small."

Before Otacon could begin repairs on the poor garment, however, Snake's arms came up and pushed Otacon's away. "Hey, watch it, Yaoi Boy!"

"Snake, I'm fixing your _tie,_" the scientist rolled his eyes.

"Which puts you _dangerously_ close to my nipples, Mr. I-Was-The-Seme!"

"You can keep your nipples to yourself, thanks!" Otacon huffed.

Eyes growing wide in fury, Snake seemed to tower over Otacon a little more. "Seme tries to fix Uke's tie and dies grisly death - film at eleven!"

Kat swirled a finger next to her head. "Sheesh. 'You might be an otaku if...'"

Josh blinked. "I am so glad I don't know Japanese."

"Do I _envy_ you, Hermano," Berto looked at Snake and Otacon like the two were married.

"Envy me? **I** didn't click... whatever it was that you did…"

Kat, however, was ignoring them. "You're doing what I _think_ you're doing, aren't you?"

Seeing it in her eyes, Snake finally adjusted his tie to perfection. "Yep."

"Someone wanna clue me in?" Berto asked.

"We saw this," Otacon whipped out a rolled up poster, seemingly from nowhere, and let it drop open.

"Oh God," Kat made a face, "I was hoping we could skip that..."

"End-of-DOX charity ball," Josh read. "I totally forgot about... that's _tonight?_ That's going out over television, you know. What are you going do, expose yourself on national television so you can get the cameras aimed at the Patriots?"

Kat made a vague gagging motion. "Please, there's a lady present."

"Pretty much, yeah," Snake nodded, glaring at Kat on the side.

"I _hate_ dancing," sighed Kat.

"I love being a background monitor," Berto smiled.

"We know Vamp's going to be there," Snake grabbed the little N-Tek button Josh tossed his way and stuck it to his lapel, "it's the only way I think of to find Arsenal."

"Oh, I have that covered," Josh announced.

Berto thought back to earlier, how Josh had been on the phone… and went to see his father _unannounced._ "How, Hermano?"

"I... got us a submarine," he answered. "Not that I found out where the thing _is,_ but I got us a submarine. Well, Dad got us a submarine. Remind me not to go near him for a few... years. So, this thing's in a hour, I'd better get ready... Kat, you coming?"

"Not like I have a choice," she answered. "Oh well... at least I already _have_ a dress… and all of you don't even _say_ it, I just keep it for emergencies like this, thank you very much."

"Great, you can be my date," Snake smiled at her.

Outside, a man leaned on a car at the other side of the parking lot. His black clothes looked like a dark orange as the sun started going down, but his skull-shaped mask didn't seem to attract the light at all.

L'Étranger watched, amused, as Solid Snake came running out of Team Steel's van, a rather large piece of furniture following him through the air.

---

If it isn't obvious, the business with the Snake/Otacon yaoi is a none-too-veiled stab at the state of that particular genre of fanfiction nowadays. For the record, no, I don't have any specific authors or stories in mind.

The ref list:

-Kat's line about problems is from Spider-Man.


	9. Chapter IX

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear Solid (or anything Metal Gear for that matter,) and I don't own Max Steel. My profit from this is an exact figure of zero dollars.

Metal Gears, Nanoprobes, and a Word from our Sponsor

Chapter IX

by Alhazred

madarab20@hotmail.com

http://www.rockettownonline.com/~alhazred

Not for the first time, Otacon wondered what mental deficiency had driven any of them, himself included, to think this would work. Now, with twilight almost upon the DOX, he summed it up in a simple manner. "This is insane."

"Thank you for that insanely scientific analysis, Otacon," Snake rolled his eyes, straightening his bow tie one last time. "If you have a better idea, I'm all ears."

"Look, Snake, okay, so we don't have any other leads," Otacon replied, "but _walking_ up to Vamp and _asking_ him where Arsenal Gear is will _not_ work."

Tugging at his lapels, Snake answered, "I don't _need_ to ask him where it is, we know it has to be close, I just need to ask him where it's going, then we can catch it."

Tilting his head to the side, Otacon shot him a glare. "You _know_ what I mean."

"Oh, shut up, Yaoi Boy."

Otacon felt tempted to slap him, but he doubted it would do anything aside from giving Snake an excuse to punch him really hard. "Where's Josh, anyway?"

"Getting ready, I hope."

Looking back to the door of the van, Snake could see the colors from the sunset fade. They were already fifteen minutes late for this thing. Quite suddenly, he spun around and looked up and down the parking lot, an action that worried his partner. Otacon knew Snake well enough to know that he wasn't paranoid; if he thought someone was watching him, someone _was._

But they couldn't see anyone around. Thermal goggles, on the other hand, would have shown L'Étranger hiding out in the shadows as clear as day.

Inside, Berto was tweaking his laptop for the op and made a final check on everything. Josh's Biolink was sending, Snake and Otacon's Codecs were receiving his signals, clever thing, that little idea, and Josh himself had pretty much psyched himself up for the job as he usually did.

So why, then, was Josh stalling in his room and looking over his shoulder at every little detail?

"You okay, Bro?"

"Yeah," Berto told him, careful not to say it too fast this time. In truth, he _did_ feel better since Kat's… medical attention, though he doubted he'd be getting a good night's sleep for awhile. Josh talking reminded him of the one thing he'd forgotten, something he could mercifully distract his friend with to stop him asking more questions. "Hey, you forgot something, Hermano."

He handed Josh the nanosword.

"Oh yeah," Josh took it and twirled it between his fingers, looking at it like he wasn't really seeing it. He wanted to say something, make up for completely ignoring Berto earlier, but... "so you made this thing, huh?"

"Yeah, it was... a challenge, let me tell you," Berto answered. "It won't cut you, by the way, as long as you're holding it. The grip reads your DNA and dulls the blade if you touch it."

"Cool," Josh answered, not a lot of effort in his voice. "You know..."

"We should get going," Berto said.

"Yeah... guess you're right... are you sure..."

"Yes," Berto almost spat, turning to make sure he had everything.

So Josh turned away and, giving Berto one last glance, left the van.

"Are you _insane?_" Snake glared daggers at him. After being puzzled for a moment, Josh looked down at himself.

"Whoops." He'd forgotten to change; a muscle shirt and faded jeans weren't very... charity-ball like. "Knew I forgot something."

He tapped a few of the smaller buttons on his Biolink, and this time, when the Max Probes woke up and buzzed over him with their transphasic glow, he was decked out in a perfect tuxedo, bow tie and all.

Snake growled.

Berto soon followed out of the van. "Kat just checked in, everything's smooth... she's talking Orrin's ear off about our new teammate, and he can't wait to meet him."

Snake blinked. "Orrin?"

Straightening his jacket and dropping the nanosword into the inside pocket, Josh rolled a bit on his heels. "Yeah, he's the ZNN correspondent that covers the DOX most of the time. Maybe we're lucky and he's sick of having to talk about Vamp kicking our butts."

"Oh," Snake raised an eyebrow at him, almost saying 'gee, _that_ Orrin.' "Joy."

Somewhere else in the parking lot, a set of electronic binoculars zoomed in on the little group, a directional microphone pointed their way. "They're headin' out, Boss."

"It's about time," Dread answered back, Psycho adjusting the volume of his earpiece slightly. "You might as well head out now; you've been tracking them all day. We know enough about what they're planning, I think."

"Good, I'm fucking _starving_ down here," Psycho said back. He glanced around the lot with his binoculars a little more and caught site of L'Étranger; the masked man watched the Kasatka take off before nonchalantly turning around, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking off. "And you'll never guess who else is _actually here._"

"You called it right, I assume?" Dread chuckled over the comm. link.

"Damn right I did. You owe me twenty bucks, I _knew_ this would happen. It's just the kind of... psychotic thing Maxy over there would do."

"Very well, my friend," Dread seemed fairly amused. "You know what to do next."

"Yeah, yeah, Boss." With that, Psycho turned around, flicked off the optic camouflage his brace controlled, and headed back to his transportation.

---

One little detail didn't escape Josh after they landed. "Oh God...this is the Oceanus, isn't it?"

"Yep," Berto chuckled. Snake looked at them and raised an eyebrow. "Don't ask."

With a two-fingered salute to them out his side window, Otacon brought the Kasatka back into the air and flew it off. He would circle from above and monitor for now.

Briefly, Josh had a flashback to the Fantasy Sports Cruise that Psycho had raided a few months ago. As a counter-terrorist, he was starting to _hate_ cruise ships; they were hostage situations just _waiting_ to happen.

So, of course, the DOX had set the event up on a cruise ship docked in the bay. Fortunately, that meant if anything went wrong, it wouldn't be hard to get people off the thing.

Berto, meanwhile, started feeling a little self-conscious on the now-empty helipad. It was standard fair for team managers to dress casual at formal events, but as far as he was concerned, it just made him stand out more as a target. Pulling the strap that held his laptop and the portable generator tighter on his shoulder, he nodded at Josh and they went in separate directions; one to find a reasonably secluded place to monitor things and the others to mingle and look for Vamp.

"Feeling old yet?" Josh smiled as soon as they saw the dance floor.

Looking at the assembly of athletes at least half his age, Snake grumbled something Josh wished he _couldn't_ hear.

---

"Where's L'Étranger?"

Psycho let out a sigh. "No sign of him, Boss."

"He could be… trouble," Dread's voice came back. "Eliminate him if he shows himself."

"I'll let Fangs at him," Psycho answered back, lowering his voice when someone turned a confused look in his direction. He didn't much care, his optic camouflage was impossible to see when he wasn't moving.

"That will do," Dread chuckled at the mental picture that gave him. "Where _is_ Vamp?"

Turning his head slowly, Psycho looked out on to the dance floor. "He's stalking McGrath."

Elsewhere in the ballroom, Josh's infrared caught a signature that he couldn't see with the naked-eye. But it was missing an arm. "Smiley's here."

"Yeah, I see him," Berto replied through his Biolink. Josh could see Berto too, sitting at a table a little closer to Psycho then Josh was happy with. "Too close for comfort, Hermano."

"Too many people around, too." Josh answered. Psycho started to walk off. "Wonder where _he's_ off to..."

Josh was intent on following him right across the dace floor and to wherever he was going, but someone else had other plans. Someone he walked right into because they didn't show on infrared at all.

Switching back, Josh found himself face-to-face with Vamp. "Oh, goody."

"Long time no see," Vamp smiled and half bowed, a dubious intent evident in his eyes. He gestured to the dance floor, "May I have this dance?"

Holding back from raising his voice, Josh gritted his teeth. "I wouldn't even give you _the time of day_ if you _were_ a woman."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Vamp quipped, spinning on his heels once as if he were going to throw a knife, moving behind Josh and putting a hand to his shoulder before vanishing into the crowd.

"Bro, remind me to hit him _hard_ the next time he touches me."

"Will do, Hermano... yech..."

Snake had been looking for Kat, but he hadn't caught sight of her yet, so he started asking around. And then he started talking to a rather attractive young woman at the bar. "So what's _your_ specialty?"

"Cycling, I'd think," she told him. "First DOX though, haven't done as well as I'd like to... you seem kinda... old for this stuff."

Most men would've taken that as an insult, but not Solid Snake. "Old, pfft. I'm in my prime! Throw a board and you're in my dust."

He raised a glass of champaign in mock-toast. And then a horrible, ear-piercing shriek cut trough from the Codec and he promptly flung the glass up and splashed the poor girl.

He was too busy grabbing his ear to see her immediate reaction, but he felt her slap him across the face and heard her stomp away. _"Otttaaacoooon…"_

"Well, that's what you get for the 'yaoi boy' crack," the engineer retaliated, calm as ever, the Kasatka's engines thumping in the background. Snake decided Otacon was hanging around him too much; he was starting to develop a spine with frightening results.

---

At the edge of the dance hall, Berto sat alone at a table, his back to the wall, an N-Tek headset plugged into his ear, and the image from Max's Biolink from his laptop lighting up his face.

While it wasn't the most ideal of working conditions, he looked exactly like the myriad of other managers sitting about while their teams mingled, and that was a good thing. Managers didn't tend to socialize all that much, either, and considering the closest ones he could see was the manager for Team Raptor and the goth managing Team Freakz, this was most _certainly_ a good thing.

"Hey Bro, I'm gonna follow Smiley," Max said to him.

"Careful Josh," he warned, watching as Josh's eyes caught site of less and less people as he went deeper into the ship.

A hand came down on his shoulder. Nearly jumping out of his seat, Berto turned his head.

"Sorry Berto," Kat winced.

He just stared in a rather non-chalant fashion. Kat was, in simple terms, an absolute _knockout_ when she dressed up in something nice, and the fairly revealing satin dress she currently wore was no exception. "Uh...hi?"

Glaring back at him, she said, "Yes, hello 'Snake.' I'm looking for the _other_ guy that stares?"

"Eh heh," he tried to smile, pointing across the dance floor to the bar where Snake was trying to pick up another young, female athlete with rather blond hair. "Over there. You look...nice?"

"Well, that's better then Vamp's 'lick me,' at least," she winked at him, walking away.

It was a minute before Berto looked back to his monitor.

'Lick me.' Well, at least Vamp didn't seem to notice his _own_ presence as much as Josh and Kat's...

---

On the one hand, Josh was fairly well versed in the layout of this ship, having dealt with Psycho on it a few months ago. On the other hand, that little incident felt like a bad omen now. "I _really_ hate cruise ships..."

He mumbled to himself a little as he dashed down another set of stairs. He was fairly close to one of the anchors, but he hadn't caught sight of Psycho yet. Still, he was hearing footsteps, and he was fairly certain they were from his objective.

The corridors looked a lot different in infrared, and running through them, chasing Smiley, of all people, was starting to remind him of something. Last month had been Max Steel's third birthday…oh, how things came full circle.

Except this time, he not only knew what he was getting into, but he knew he could handle it. And he was glad for that when he finally caught sight of Psycho down a corridor. He didn't switch out of infrared in case Psycho was still cloaked and risk losing him, but then, he didn't really need to.

Unfortunately, Psycho saw him too and promptly turned to run around a corner.

"Déjà vu, eh Smiley?" Josh called, going into Max Mode before he was even running at full speed. He'd kept his tux after powering up; on the chance of getting caught causing trouble, it was easier to claim being in the wrong place at the wrong time if one had the appropriate clothes.

Running around the same corner, however, proved hazardous to his health, because he also ran _into_ something that wasn't there, almost like someone held an arm out that he smacked against like the branch of a tree and fell flat on his back.

And he could see that Vamp stood over him as soon as he turned the infrared off, looking down with a grin on his face and a hand on his combat knife. A small smear of blood dotted his lips, but it wasn't there for long, as his tongue snaked out, slowly, deliberately, licking it off. "Three today...or rather, four?"

He drew his knife and dived at Max; Max, in turn, rolled back and to his feet. He brought an arm up to catch Vamp's when he saw the knife come down, but Vamp moved back once his blow was stopped, the knife slicing across Max in the process.

Max paid it no heed; it wasn't a serious wound. He hit Turbo Mode and, ducking under Vamp's swinging knife, barreled into him. Plowing the bloodsucker through a door to the anchor room, Max shoved him into the wall next to the open hull and tried to kick him back into it, but Vamp pushed him back.

Flicking his Turbo Mode off to save energy, Max took a defensive stance.

Vamp, on the other hand, didn't attack. He took one look up and swung his knife, the small HF blade slicing cleanly through the massive anchor chain that ran along the ceiling.

It was so absurd that Max didn't realize what was happening until the heavy links swung down and almost took his head off. He did, however, smack against the railing and slid down as the anchor itself fell overboard.

Max was out cold, though for how long he would stay that way was anyone's guess. Vamp wiped the sweat from his forehead and sheathed his combat knife. The cuts his blade sawed across Max's arm had long since closed, so there was no snack to be had there.

However, there was more then one way to rend steel. Letting out a breath he could see, Vamp smiled and talked to himself. "Mmm, being killed and rising as a romantic psychotic, my unlife has its perks."

He dropped to one knee over Max, nudging him straighter against the wall.

"Maaaaxxx," Berto grew tense over the Biolink when his monitors stayed black, but Max wasn't cognizant to hear as a pair of icy lips touched his own, sharp teeth drawing blood.

"Max, wake up," Berto called, sending him into Turbo Mode remotely. The jolt woke him up like it had on other occasions when Berto had used that trick, but those occasions were much less traumatizing, to say the least. "Woah!"

Berto had jumped as soon as he saw Vamp in Max's face. Max had the presence of mind not to move when he noticed Vamp's eyes were closed...and he had the restraint to keep still for a moment when he felt the blood trickling down his chin and Vamp's tongue in his mouth.

But only for a moment, after which, he bit down; hard.

Vamp's eyes shot open and met with Max's for the briefest of moments before he howled into the other's mouth, tearing away so fast that Max almost ended up biting his tongue off.

He didn't get far. Before Vamp could stand, Max slammed a knee into his crotch, the added strength probably enough to kill a normal human from the sheer pain. Vamp just froze and squeaked a little 'ow.'

The bloodsucker didn't entirely register Max standing up and punching him across the face with the meanest right hook he'd ever feel, but he was more aware of his surrounding when Max picked him up and hurled him overboard.

Dropping out of Turbo Mode, Max leaned over the railing, groaned, and spit the rather vile liquid in his mouth out. He wanted to throw up; after all, he didn't know where Vamp had _been,_ and he didn't really _want _to know, either. Unfortunately, there wasn't time; Smiley was still running around and Max wanted to find him before he did something so typically Psycho and sink the ship for no reason at all...

"You okay, Hermano?"

"I could use a stick of gum," Max spat again, "or five. But yeah."

"Transphasics got hit from that, though," Berto answered back. Max could feel that, he didn't even need to look at his Biolink. "Any sign of Smiley?"

"Nah, looking for him now."

"I'll bring you down the portable," Berto said. Max heard his laptop close over the Biolink. For a second, he opened his mouth to tell him to stay out in the open...but he didn't.

Berto, on the other hand, wasn't stupid enough to run around alone in a place where he'd be in danger of running into a guy who could crush him to death in the span of three seconds. So he went looking for Snake and Kat.

Kat had led Snake to Orrin, and they were currently both smiling for the camera, arms around each other's waist. Berto came close just in time to see Orrin move on and Snake move his hand _too_ far down. Kat promptly slapped him.

And Snake seemed to be satisfied with that.

Kat seemed to be satisfied at the idea of joining Josh in the bowels of the ship. It didn't take them long to get down to the same deck; Snake split off to search the port side.

No sooner had he done so then Psycho walked out of one of the crews' bunkrooms ahead of them.

"All dressed up and nowhere to go," he drew the HF sword on his back. "except in _pieces._"

"That doesn't make sense," Berto raised an eyebrow.

"Shut up," Psycho glared at him, stomping forward.

He didn't get far. Another of the ship's heavy doors swung open and he walked right into it. The arm pushing the other side of the door promptly pulled it back and slammed it into his face twice more before his assailant stepped out, grabbed Psycho by the back of his shirt and cracked the top of his head against the metal.

Sword falling from his hand, Psycho made a sick gurgling noise and collapsed.

"I never liked him."

Unconsciously taking a step back, almost hiding behind Kat, Berto squeaked, "L'Étranger..."

---

It's actually important for later, so if you don't know, L'Étranger's name is pronounced "LAY-tron-JAY." I think. I never trust voice actors with non-English words.


	10. Chapter X

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear Solid (or anything Metal Gear for that matter,) and I don't own Max Steel. My profit from this is an exact figure of zero dollars.

Metal Gears, Nanoprobes, and a Word from our Sponsor

Chapter X

by Alhazred

madarab20@hotmail.com

http://www.rockettownonline.com/~alhazred

Upon dashing around the corner and aiming his SOCOM over Berto's shoulder, Snake had to fight the urge to verbally sigh at the sight of _another_ FOXHOUND reject. He hadn't quite caught the name. "Who's laying _who,_ now?"

Kat merely sighed. "Oh, I don't _believe_ this."

L'Étranger just crossed his arms, giving all three the distinct impression that he was glaring at Snake. "Very funny. Or not."

"I can't believe this," Kat rolled her eyes, thoroughly unimpressed. "You are _still_ such a lamer!"

"Ah, ma chere Katherine," the Frenchman spread his arms, almost, if disturbingly, implying that he expected an embrace. "I didn't recognize you at first. I never thought I'd see _you_ again...let alone wearing a dress of your own volition."

Berto, suddenly forgetting that L'Étranger was not only capable of flooring them all and probably rather angry with himself in particular, realized that this wasn't the kind of conversation one usually had with a rather violent mercenary. But Kat and L'Étranger had never met...at least, never during the old official-spy-business days.

She growled. "I am _so_ going to kick your ass."

"You're welcome to make your usual feeble attempt," L'Étranger laughed. "Though you might want to consider the fact that I'm actually on _your_ side, as ludicrous as it is."

Unable to keep quiet after _that,_ Berto opened his mouth. "Oh, _right, _and I'm the Virgin Mary!"

"Quiet, Doctor," L'Étranger tilted his head towards Berto. "I still owe you the world's largest swirly."

Berto didn't flinch.

"Would someone tell me what's going on here?" Snake asked, his gun steady as he looked back and forth between the other three.

Otacon came back on the Codec, the sounds of his wireless modem establishing a connection now drowning out the Kasatka. "I'll dig up some dirt, Snake."

"This is ridiculous," Kat concluded, cracking her knuckles. "I'm just gonna knock your face off."

And she meant that. This was apparent when, despite being in high heels, she stomped towards him with murder in her eyes.

And then Josh walked into the corridor; right between them. He took one look at Kat, and one strangely calm look at L'Étranger before he did a double-take back to the former and realized all Hell was about to break loose. "Okay, _whoa,_ everybody calm down!"

"_What_ is going on?" Snake whined, still being ignored.

"Ignorance, thy name is bliss," L'Étranger leaned on the doorframe at his back. "Really Monsieur Steel, it's bad enough I must bend my back to your will, do I _have_ to work with the peanut gallery?"

Revelation knocking him for a loop, Berto took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes before staring at Josh like he was a total stranger. _This is a dream. This is a dream. I'm asleep._ "You _hired_ L'Étranger? _Are you insane?_"

"Actually," Josh started, his eyes shifting. "Dad hired him."

Kat was equally dumbfounded. "You know, screw him, I'm gonna kick _your_ ass first, McGrath."

"Would you _calm down_ and listen to me!" Josh was getting irritated, and the fact that he realized he'd done this whole thing entirely wrong and shouldn't have expected anything _else_ then this reaction just irritated him more. "Do you have a _better_ way to find Dread, short of swimming around the bay? So we pay French Fry and deal with him later, lesser of two evils!"

Berto opened his mouth to say something again, but stopped short upon hearing a new sound in the corridor, a sort of low power hum and... it hit him; optic camouflage. "Where's Psycho?!"

Everyone looked at the spot the madman in question had fallen at, but he was gone, even to Max's infrared and Snake's thermal goggles.

"Well, _that's_ embarrassing," Snake remarked, feeling as stupid as everyone else. And he even had the excuse of listening to Otacon babble about L'Étranger over the Codec.

Kat broke the silence by smacking Josh across the back of his head.

"And what was _that_ for?" he jumped.

Her face staying neutral, Kat gave him a shrug. "I felt like it. What the hell _were_ you thinking?"

"As much as you amuse me, Katherine," L'Étranger walked away from his perch against the wall, "please stop humiliating him. I would like to get back to work so I can _enjoy_ my money, if you don't mind.

"Work? You?" She asked. "That's a new one."

The only indication that he reacted was his head tilting to the side, but there was probably a nasty glare under the mask. "Yes. Work. It just so happens I've been tailing Vamp for most of the day. Did you know they're planning something tomorrow?"

"Wait, what?" Snake broke in, no longer caring for the personal conflicts.

Pulling some simple slight-of-hand, L'Étranger whisked out a small micro-cassette recorder, held it out, and pressed 'play.'

"Yes, King," Vamp's voice played out, a little garbled but unmistakable. They couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, of course, but Vamp was enough. _"Yes, we're set to go. Everything is ready for tomorrow...I doubt anyone will know what hit them either..._"

"And on and on," finished L'Étranger. "Not that he gave any specifics away."

"So I guess we wait until tomorrow," Snake scratched his head. "Unless, you...weirdo...skull-faced guy, I don't suppose you _found_ Arsenal Gear?"

"Still searching, unfortunately," L'Étranger growled. "Tomorrow, then."

---

"Josh, if I didn't need sleep last night, I would've been up the entire time yelling at you."

"I know, I _know,_" Josh sighed, Berto glaring at him with a passion. He wasn't even fully awake yet.

"And Kat and I are hitching a ride with him when he heads out."

"You're _what?_" Josh promptly fell out of his chair and was quick to stand back up. "You are _not..."_

"Trusting him," Berto crossed his arms, "which is why yes, we are. Besides, even if we _did,_ we don't trust him to get the job done. I mean, how many times have we stopped him? There's kind of an incompetence issue here. And where's Snake?"

"Outside," Josh motioned to the door. "He's practicing for the event later. His false records are still set up, right? We didn't trash it when we thought he wasn't competing with us after all?"

"Nope, it's all set. Even Jefferson'll play along if he has to," Berto chuckled. "I need to talk to him. Snake, I mean."

With that, he left Josh and went to the aforementioned outside. The sight that greeted him was absolutely hilarious.

"No, no, _bend_ your knees," she shoved him off of his skateboard to prove the point.

"I _know,_ Lady. This is not my first time!"

"Too much information, Tiger," she winced. "Oh, hey Berto."

"Morning. Snake, I have something for you."

"Oh come on, what did I ever do to you, besides break your ank- oh, never mind." He received a pair of blank looks for his troubles. "Okay, _you_ see how hard it is to not develop a reflex after every terrorist in the world has told you that to signify some sort of large, obscene weapon."

More staring ensued. Berto decided it was time to stop doing that, no matter how weird Snake was being. He held up the injection gun he was carrying. "Right, well, all I've got is the cure for FOXDIE. And it'll probably feel like a heart attack for a minute."

"Hah, lay it on me, Doc." Snake promptly rolled up his sleeve, and Berto gave him the injection. They waited for a moment...and waited.

"That's funny," Berto raised an eyebrow. "It hurt like hell on my ankle."

"Maybe I'm just lucky," Snake poked at his chest a little, still anticipating a reaction. Berto shrugged and turned back to the van.

"Berto," Kat said, "we should change your bandages before Skull Boy picks us up later."

"Eh heh, riiight," he winced.

"Hey Doc," Snake reached under his shirt and handed Berto what he usually kept no more then two feet away. "I think you need this under your pillow more then I do. Just don't think blithely using it'll make you feel better."

Looking at it, Berto almost seemed to have no reaction at all to the offer. But he took Snake's SOCOM without a word.

---

"Had a nice swim?"

The glare Vamp gave Dread would have been lethal to some. "Ery unny."

And Dread simply smiled, checking his watch. Six in the morning and none of them had slept. No matter, the day had started last night as far as they were concerned. "And Psycho?"

"Has uh eadach."

"Yes. Well, I'm sure I don't need to ask how _you're_ doing," Dread stood, seeking out his weapons and armor on the wall. "I _told_ him to take care of L'Étranger... and perhaps you'll find it prudent to stop flirting with everyone?"

Removing his guns and the HF broadsword from the rack, Dread briefly went through a mental checklist of what he was going to do in mere hours. And then Vamp spoke again.

"No," the bloodsucker managed to smile, his 'injury' suddenly gone. "Josh is a good kisser..."

"Thank you for sharing, Vamp," Dread rolled his eyes.

"And he tastes good-"

"Vamp!" Dread shot him a look that indicated, quite clearly, 'I do not want to know.' "You know what to do."

"Of course, King," Vamp took a mock bow, "of course. And after?"

Ocelot took that moment to walk in.

"Do what you will with him," Dread replied, turning when he heard the door slide open. "I don't care. Everything ready, Ocelot?"

"Perfectly," was his reply. Ocelot looked smug for a moment...but he flinched when his arm tensed. "Bypassing that damn dead AI control was a bitch, but its working. The remote link is right on my control console."

"In that case," Dread shoved a clip into one of his guns and cocked the slide, "I believe it's time to go."

---

Morning at the N-Tek building had started off fairly well for most employees. Jefferson was not one of these people, as he was anything but a morning person, but his secretary knew better then to disturb him before he had caffeine in his system. He was, in fact, intent on being cranky _all_ day, because he didn't think the idea of L'Étranger double-crossing Josh would ever work its way out of his head. But then again, they _had_ paid him a lot of money...it was almost scary, how that simple fact pretty much meant they could trust the asshole, whether they liked it or not...

And then there was that whole thing with ESPN doing a behind-the-scenes feature at N-Tek as a sidebar to the final DOX event...

Jeff said a simple word as the morning processed in his mind. "Ugh."

If all of _this_ wasn't bad enough, there was _already_ a camera crew from ESPN running around in the building above ground, filming a behind-the-scenes look at the people who had been making the best sports equipment around for a decade. It was something Jeff would never had allowed before this year, it was just too risky...and a part of that paranoia stuck.

The intercom on Jefferson's desk buzzed, and he groaned. Ten minutes into the day and _already_ something unexpected was happening. "_Yes_ Janine?"

"Uh...Mr. Smith? There's...um...someone here..."

He didn't understand why she was so terrified; he wasn't THAT much of a monster before getting coffee. But he was more annoyed then curious. "Yeah, send 'em in..."

Not even looking up from the odds and ends he was going through on his desk, Jeff wondered why the crap and useless documents left on his desk at the end of the day for tomorrow was always astoundingly plentiful.

He contemplated this as he heard the doors swing open, and got the distinct impression this person was admiring the sea windows that made up the back wall. Newcomers were always rather spellbound by that. And to think, Bill Gates only made his office bigger then everyone else's! An underground working area had its advantages...

"My my, I've always missed this view..."

The pen in Jeff's hand fell, his other arm slowly moving to the gun nailed to the underside of his desk. That voice didn't need any introduction as far as he was concerned. He looked up slowly, praying he was hearing it wrong, just hallucinating because of what Josh had told him...

"Don't go for the gun, Jefferson," Dread pulled one of his own weapons the instant their eyes met, a glint of light reflecting from the black weapon flashing over Jeff's vision. "Funny how I never had cause to go for it when I sat there."

Withdrawing his hand, Jefferson didn't give Dread the satisfaction of intimidation.

"I'd be rather happy if you didn't reach for one of the alarms, either. You may want to call an ambulance for poor Janine out there," Dread snapped his head back. Jeff could see the poor old woman out cold, slumped over her desk past his door. "You might say she's seen a ghost."

Typical Dread, knocking her out after being let in. "Been a while, Marco."

"Oh, so we're _not_ denying our old friendships now that Josh knows the truth?" Giving an honest chuckle, Dread motioned for Jefferson to stand up. "You know, sometimes I still wonder how things could have gone if I thought you and Jim would've come with me."

"Oh please." _That_ got Jeff riled. "You're nothing more then a small coward, _Dread. _The most sickening thing about you is that you _used_ to be a good man."

"Yes, well, perhaps one day you'll see I still _am_," Dread turned his head slightly, as if pondering the statement. The _Infinite Ammo_ brand logo on the arm of his shades caught the bluish light from the windows; Jeff idly wondered, in a moment of stress-induced mind-wandering, how Dread _still_ afforded those things even after his entire organization and financial base had gone down the drain. Dread was wearing a really big sword on his back, too. "Now, if you'll be so kind as to walk out in front of me, we'll get to my demands."

---

Snake had been through a lot in life...but this took the cake. "Do I _have_ to wear this thing?"

"Snake, you're at the starting line; it's a bit late to argue," Otacon came back. Snake craned his head around and looked up, the Kasatka looking like one of the many camera choppers buzzing about. ESPN and ZNN really went nuts over this thing.

And he realized Otacon was right, but _still._ As far as he was concerned, he looked absolutely ridiculous in the N-Tek jumpsuit. It was an obnoxiously bright blue as opposed to the nice, dark, easy-on-the-eyes color of his sneaking suit, and without the chest plate Josh wore as Max, it looked even _more_ ridiculous.

Snake found himself tracing over the N-Tek logo with his finger to kill the time until the race started. "But it's _not_ my color..."

Someone looked at him, and Snake decided it was a bad idea to talk to himself when Josh wasn't right next to him to provide faux conversation. Josh was, in fact, on the next street over, closer to one of Vamp's teammates. Vamp himself had a position not far away from Snake's starting point.

Orrin was close by, too. The guy had been overly fascinated with Snake's age (why, Snake couldn't guess,) and made sure to mention him as a nifty bit of useless trivia every time he did a report. From this distance, Snake could hear him explaining the final event's rules to the camera.

It was pretty simple, actually. The DOX had held this event with bicycles before, a free-form race through a part of Del Oro with the competitors taking any route they wanted towards the finish line. The catch was they were in the harbor district; if a certain large submarine was hanging around the bay, they couldn't be any closer without L'Étranger providing transportation.

---

Dread wasn't only smart, but he knew Jeff well, and that was a dangerous combination. He didn't give Jeff a single opportunity to get away as he forced him through the corridors and to the main lab in the building proper, not underground but with a view out the massive columns of side windows. That meant it was a legitimate R & D area for corporate N-Tek, things the FBI hadn't taken or shut down.

However, seventeen of the twenty workers in this lab had worked in the espionage division's weapons department prior to this year, and they knew Dread's face well even if they'd never met him.

And that was the reason all work stopped the instant they saw their boss shoved into the room at gunpoint. And there was a reason Dread had picked this specific lab to drag Jeff into; the ESPN camera crew was here.

Amused at how everything was falling into place, Dread shoved Jeff forward and shot a round into the ceiling. "Good morning ladies and gentleman, my name is Solid Snake, and you are all my hostages."

---

Berto had to admit, the Akyna was pretty impressive, especially from the inside. He'd never really had a chance to notice it, not being on the mission two years with Rachel. And that time in Hawaii was...well, he had been busy with other things.

Those 'other things' made him worry for his own safety right now. He _might've_ trusted L'Étranger a little more if the man didn't owe him serious payback for being flushed out into Pearl Harbor.

But then, the operative phrase was 'a _little_ more.'

Kat, on the other hand, wasn't deterred at all by being inside the thing; she was pacing around behind him, receiving odd looks now and then from some of the crew and L'Étranger himself.

Eventually, however, he grew irritated. "Katherine, why don't you, say, _sit down_ somewhere?"

"'Cause I'd rather stand," she replied flatly, not even looking at him.

L'Étranger merely laced his fingers and leaned back in his chair. "Ah, but my dear, I want you to be comfortable."

"And I want you to shoot yourself out of a torpedo tube," she smiled, "but I'm still waiting for _that,_ aren't I?"

"Your compatriot might have better luck making that happen," he chuckled.

Berto cringed, and tried to concentrate more on the sonar readings.

One contact, in particular, was starting to look stranger and stranger the closer they came...

---

"That thing's headed your way, Kid," Snake called.

Josh waited a second, and sure enough, Vamp shot out of an ally way on his board, almost knocking down another racer. "Yeah, I see him."

And Josh watched as Vamp, perfectly balanced, turned to him and bowed as he skated across the street and took a turn that blatantly screamed 'follow me.'

"And he just broke off from the race," Josh added.

"Any luck, Hermano?" Berto's voice hit his ears.

"Sorta, Bro. Vamp's going...somewhere," Josh answered, as he turned and pumped for more speed to follow the bloodsucker. "What's up on _your_ end?"

"No huge submarines yet, but... the DOX just called off the event."

"Uh oh," Snake intoned.

"I know I'm gonna regret asking this," sighed Josh, "but, why?"

"Sit down for this, Josh; the news is all over 'Solid Snake,' known to us unfortunate souls as John Dread, conducting a terrorist action at..."

The hesitation on Berto's part creeped Josh out more then Vamp ever could. "Bro..._where?_"

"N-Tek."

Josh frowned, almost knocking into the railing he'd planned on sliding on. This news prompted to go around and not even try. "You're _kidding_ me."

"'Fraid not, Hermano."

"Great," Josh let out a curse or three.

"Bastard brothers just _don't know when to quit_," Snake came in over the comm line again. "Stay on Vamp, Kid. I'll head towards you and we'll see if we can strangle what's going on out of him."

Berto cut back into the line. "Looks like we found Arsenal Gear; it's right off the N-Tek island, of course."

Sounding like a dead man, Snake said, "Of course."

"Dread's got a damn camera crew right there," Berto said, "but he hasn't made any demands yet..."

Distracted by this, Josh failed to notice there was an obstruction in his path; Vamp's arm, much the same as it had been the night before. Josh went down not unlike last time, except his speed made for one mother of a skid.

Finally coming to a halt, he stood and found that his assailant wasn't Vamp at all; it was Psycho. That didn't stop him from going into Max Mode. "Well well, finally decided to come back to me after too much Snake, Smiley?"

"Ah, Max," Psycho laughed, his claw folding down. "Don't you _wish._"

Unbeknownst to Max, Snake had quietly rounded the corner he had just come from and promptly jumped off his board at Psycho's back. Unfortunately, Psycho had heard him regardless, and was quick to spin around, grab him in his claw, and hurl him towards his _other_ adversary.

Snake hit Max like a missile and they both went down, but neither was really fazed. In fact, Snake simply dusted himself off after he stood. "You know, you're really starting to annoy me."

"Good," Psycho drew his HF Sword with his left hand, his claw clanking a few times. "You hero types are so stressed out you don't have many nerves to get on."

"Very good Smiley," Max rolled his eyes. "It's pretty damaging to stand here and know you're _trying_ to get us to kick your ass at the same time to keep us away from Dread." He turned to Snake; "You want him?"

"Again?" Snake said. He raised a fist, as did Max, and Psycho watched patiently as they played Rock-Paper-Scissors.

Snake went with scissors and summarily lost.

"Have fun, old timer!" Max hopped on his board and was soon off, leaving Snake to make a mental note to hit him later. Hard.

"Are you finished?" Psycho was tapping his foot, tossing his sword to himself.

"Yep."

---

Jefferson was getting sick of this. Security was _right outside the door,_ and Dread was _alone,_ but it didn't matter. The entirety of the lab was still in his control, and the cameras were rolling. "Alright, 'Snake,' an accurate description, I might add, the suspense is killing me. What _do_ you want?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Dread smiled, keeping one of his guns on Jeff. "I want a Level 5 computer AI control module. And I _know_ you have them, you had them when Mairot was here."

Jeff's reaction to this demand was a lot of blinking. "That's all?" _What could he **possibly** want that for..._

"It is," answered Dread. "You see, Arsenal Gear is far too much trouble to control while bypassing its mangled AI program, but that nice little toy of yours would give us the benefit of a new intelligent interface and no world-dominating program to contend with. Pity they're so expensive on the black market."

Finding that he didn't really care about the 'what,' Jeff realized this was a fruit of the labor; Dread had really planned ahead for this. This was also the lab one would find such a thing. He was also the only one, minus the camera crew, not on his knees with his hands behind his head, so he quickly searched out the department head and nodded to him.

Said scientist rose slowly, and walked to the lab's storage closets near the windows when it was evident Dread wasn't going to blow his brains out. From one of the closets he retrieved a simple, wide and heavy black case; he needed two hands to lift it from the handle. Once he'd walked back about halfway, Dread pointed a gun at his heart. "Put it down and kick it over."

The case scraped the floor and didn't even reach Dread's personal space, but he didn't mind. Putting _Luce_ away, he stepped over and hefted the case up with one hand, _Ombra_ still trained on Jefferson. No one dared to move with one gun still aimed at their boss, especially security out in the hallways.

"I do believe I'll be leaving now." Tucking the case under one arm, Dread pulled a the radio from his belt. "Ocelot, I'm ready, over."

There was no response.

"Ocelot?"

Still nothing; Jeff couldn't help but be amused. "Problems?"

A frown was all Dread gave up. There was a problem, certainly. Ocelot should've acknowledged him, of course, but even if he didn't, Metal Gear RAY should've already burst up through the water and landed on the island, perfectly visible through the massive windows of the building and high enough to reach from this lab.

But nothing was happening, and Dread tried again. "Ocelot, wake up!"

Finally, the radio squawked back, but the voice that came over it had a vaguely British accent attached. "Not Ocelot..."

"Liquid," Dread spat.

Tossing the radio down, Dread put his gun away. In the split second before Jeff lunged at him, he drew his sword and charged at the door. The unfortunate security guards outside the lab found themselves lambasted by the now-flying door when Dread knocked it clear off its hinges. Jefferson hot on his tail, Dread rocketed down the corridor on his jet-propelled footwear, skidded to a stop and made it around a corner just as some of N-Tek's finest managed to stand up and raise their guns. He distinctly heard Jefferson's voice yelling something like "After him!"

But he was almost home free. Down these stairs, through another few halls and out the lobby...

And at the bottom of those stairs, a platoon of yet more guards dashed up after him and opened fire with quite a few machine guns. Turning around so fast he couldn't even tell what kind of guns he was being attacked with, Dread ran as fast as he could _up_ the staircase, where there would be less, if any resistance. The roof didn't have a heliport or space for a helicopter to land and an escape by going up wouldn't be possible.

And that meant it was time to improvise.

---

Why oh why did I give my gun, **my** gun to Doc Martinez, Snake lamented, dodging around another of Psycho's laser blasts. There wasn't much here in the way of cover. The street opened up not too far away, but that was a big, open space, so for now, Snake settled for diving behind a stack of wooden crates and cardboard boxes. He would have preferred the gate into the warehouse these things were piled against was open, but alas, it was not. _And why can't **I** have an uber-death-ray..._

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind then Psycho fired _through_ the boxes and, fortunately, missed him completely. Maybe he could tip the things on Psycho when the loony stalked over. The crates, at least, might hurt if they hit flesh.

Expecting this almost immediately, Psycho flipped the switch on his wrist and, wearing the Ninja armor across his legs and left arm, promptly used the extra agility to jump up and land on _top_ of said crates. "Hi."

So Snake threw himself into the base of the pile. Psycho hadn't counted on _that,_ and, with a yell, went tumbling down as he lost his footing. "The bigger they are," Snake grinned, tugging at the rather annoying collar of his N-Tek jumpsuit.

"The more they _shoot,_" Psycho smashed up from the boxes, raised his arm and firing, but Snake dropped to the ground before the beam could take his head off. This had, however, served a purpose. Psycho had shot through the wall of the warehouse behind him, and he must've hit some counterweight, because that locked gate suddenly rolled open in a second flat.

Snake wasted no time in dashing inside. And Psycho was on his feet and chasing him soon after.

But Snake was gone by the time he was in the dark expanse. Flicking off the armor, which, ultimately, was a movement hindrance when he _wasn't_ bouncing off walls, Psycho peered around and stepped cautiously. There weren't many places to hide in here, either, but then, Solid Snake was good at this...

And then something caught Psycho's ear. First something mechanical turning on, and then something mechanical, chugging very loudly. He whirled around, and realized he'd walked right by a ladder next to the entrance. Following it up with his eyes, he saw that ladder lead up to a catwalk. That catwalk led to a crane used for moving heavy things, and sitting in that crane was Snake. The arm, invariably, lead to numerous large, heavy metal boxes and a few more of those annoying wooden crates suspended directly over Psycho's head.

Waving out of the window and grinning like, well, like Psycho, Snake pulled a lever.

The crane let go. And Psycho had one thing to say before he was crushed under a weight too large even for him to shrug off. "Aw...crap."

---

Two more corridors, one more long flight of stairs, and Dread was free...relatively speaking. He still needed to figure out how to _survive_ on the roof until Ocelot was in control again. With that thought, he slid his sword back into the clamp on his back. It was bloodied now, its first real victim that of an unfortunate guard that had walked around a corner and literally bumped into him. There just wasn't room to draw a gun, and the sword was clumsy one handed...it hadn't been a clean cut. But he put that behind him, literally, as he continued his stride. At the very least, Jeff had rang the evacuation alarm as soon as he was able; aside from security, everyone in the building was long headed for the mainland using the submersibles in the docking bay or the Behemoth.

And a voice called his name from behind, even further back then that bloody corpse. Dread knew the voice, alright. He couldn't run from this one, he would follow until he was out of steam, wear him down until he couldn't fight anymore...so he set the black case down on the floor and turned. "I see you've made your inevitable heroic appearance, Mr. Steel."

Stalking towards Dread, Max didn't pay the gory scene at his feet any heed as he stepped over it. His eyes and mind were on Dread; nothing else. The bastard had waltzed right in to his father's office, and Max didn't take that likely. "Hey, I just go where I smell trash."

Contrary to Max's unyielding pace, Dread stood still and waited for him. "You know, I think the S3 plan was improperly tested. They should've used _you_ as the controlled variable, after all, you can do what Solid does with as many casualties as _you_ decide on, and the only difference is your _mouth._"

When Max was close enough, Dread struck first. He didn't dare try to swordfight in the cramped environment, so he lashed out with a fist instead. Max leaned to the side and retaliated in kind, slugging him across the face. Moving with the blow instead of fighting it, Dread dropped down and swept Max's feet our from under him.

Not to be outdone, Max swung a leg up and kicked Dread across the face, almost knocking his glasses off before he stood. Back to square one, the two stared each other down. "You know what, Dread? Something's been bugging me. When _did_ you learn how to fight, sitting behind a _desk_ when you were at N-Tek? Don't tell me, let me guess...you were bored one day, so you decided to learn some Kung-Fu."

"I'm a Snake," Dread chuckled, catching Max's arm in mid-swing. "Do you _know_ how _torturous_ it was for me to act like a desk jockey for the better part of twenty years? Alas, going into the field during my tenure here would have attracted the Patriots more then I could afford, and fighting you personally would have tipped you off that something was amiss."

Max swung his other arm, catching Dread once more in the face. Dread stumbled, but he hopped backward when Max pressed his attack, letting his adversary's fist splinter a wooden door in two.

That gave Dread an idea. He promptly picked up the half-door that had fallen and slammed Max across the face with it in the manner that professional wrestlers wielded steel chairs. As Max reeled and finally fell to one knee, Dread relished in his adrenaline rush. "If you want a picture of the future, Mr. Steel," Dread smiled, hitting him again. This blow left Max on his back, but he managed to sit up somewhat. "Imagine-"

Dread swung his makeshift weapon again, but this time, Max caught it in the edges. He glared into Dread's shades and finished his quote. "A boot stamping on a human face, forever."

"I see you learned something in college after all, Mr. Steel. But I'd say not nearly enough."

Dread wasn't letting go, so Max, still holding on, slid a hand across the plank to his other forearm. "Well I'd say, _going turbo!"_

No match for so much strength, Dread soon found the slab of wood smashed back across his face. Before the blow even registered, Max put his own boot to Dread's chest and shoved. The much larger man, in turn, tumbled through the air, spinning around and landing on his face before skidding a foot or so.

Max sprung to his feet as Dread fought off fatigue and pushed himself up. A few seconds after Max dropped out of Turbo Mode, however, a familiar beep echoed out.

And Max, on his way to Dread, fell to his knees.

"Saved by the bell," Dread mused, stepping over with a slight limp. "You don't seem to get much mileage without your primary source of power, do you, _Josh?_"

Now desperate, Max flipped on the nanosword and took a swing, but Dread's reflexes didn't fail in prompting him to grab the blade perfectly between his palms and yank it out of Max's hands before turning it off and clipping it to his belt.

Satisfied, Dread put his fists together, brought them down, swung up and cracked Max in the jaw. He fell back again, but this time he didn't get up.

An air of calmness about him, as if he had _not_ just been one-half of a knockdown, drag out brawl, Dread walked over, picked up his case, and headed for the stairs.

"Boss!"

Glad that something was finally going right, Dread snatched his spare radio from his pocket. "It's about time, Ocelot!"

"It's getting harder and harder to fight him off," the slightly garbled response came back. "I'm on my way to the hanger now; I should be in the water in a minute or so."

"Get as close to the building as you can," Dread radioed back. "I was forced to...take a bit of a detour."

---

"We're _too close _for torpedoes," L'Étranger sighed.

"Energy weapons won't _dent_ that thing," Berto slammed his laptop closed. "You fire on him with those, and all he does is _see_ us."

Not loosing his cool in the least, the masked man gave a simple reply. "I have no intention of firing at all. We're going to destroy it from the inside. I _assume_ you have a plan for that contingency."

"Of course," Berto crossed his arms and glared.

"Helm, stealth boarding procedures," L'Étranger ordered before he turned to Kat. "Ma chere, what _did_ you do to your genius? I must put my engineer through the same thing to give _her_ a backbone."

"Forget it," one of Kat's eyebrows angled down in her own subtle face of scorn. "You'd enjoy it more then _Ocelot_ did."

She noticed, idly, that Berto wasn't crossing his arms so much anymore as he was clinging to himself.

But she put that thought aside; now wasn't the time; especially since the Akyna's docking clamps were already attaching themselves to Arsenal Gear's outer hull.

"Well then, I suppose you still don't trust me and whatnot," L'Étranger slowly rotated his chair around, running a few infiltration ideas through his head.

"Of course I do," Kat answered, seemingly surprised. "For as long as it takes you to fall after I knee you in the crotch."

"Oh that's _very_ mature, Katherine," L'Étranger let out a huff. "_Eat_ any good books lately?"

---

Slapping his palm down on the guard rail, Dread gazed out over the building and to the mainland. His only choice was to hold out until Ocelot came and even two or three minutes was a long time to last with an entire corporation's security force looking for you.

Deciding it best not to give N-Tek an inch, he turned back around, pulled his broadsword off of his back, and utterly wrecked the doorway to the point where several men would need a battering ram to get it open.

Distracted by this action, he turned around when the noise of a close by helicopter became deafening; the news choppers buzzing about weren't that close, but it wasn't one of them.

Seeing Snake's Kasatka with Snake ready to dive out the side and onto the roof, Dread stabbed his sword into the ground and drew his guns. His first shots ricocheted back off of the Kastaka's far interior wall, as Snake had already dived out with his M4 in hand, so he changed his aim and shot at the cockpit.

"Otacon, get out of here!" Snake yelled over the Codec. Fortunately, Dread's aim was off at medium ranges and Otacon pulled the Kasatka away with little incident.

Cocking the M4, Snake wasted no time in firing on Dread, and Dread, in turn, skidded halfway across the roof, came to an abrupt stop, and went back in the opposite direction when Snake fired again. "I can do this all day, Solid."

"So can I," Snake responded by firing a grenade off.

---

Arsenal Gear was, for all of its size, simple to navigate. It was made doubly simple by the schematics displayed on Berto's PDA. He had to wonder about that. Psycho had given them that optical disk with the plans and the cure for Snake when he was still wearing the Ninja exoskeleton, but why help them _that_ much? The "ninja's" betrayal hadn't hurt them nearly as much as this information was useful.

"You have the entire layout and you _still_ paid for me," L'Étranger found this highly amusing.

Berto didn't respond to that, too tempted to talk down to him at an extremely steep angle while explaining they just needed the Akyna and he could go to Hell. Kat, on the other hand, didn't see the harm in making a...comment. "You need to shut up now."

Behind his mask, L'Étranger snickered. "_You_ were always quite loud as I recall, Katherine."

The innuendoes getting on his nerves, Berto double-checked their direction they were walking in and stopped. "This way."

The door led into the Metal Gear hanger. Some of the shelves were conspicuously empty, and the room was devoid of personnel, except for the woman in a lab coat standing in the middle, looking right at all of them.

Not quite able to place the face, Kat found the name on the tip of her tongue. "Is that..."

Berto held his glasses up and squinted past them, recognizing the woman's features not from memory, but from Nastasha Romanenko's written description. "Naomi Hunter?"

Naomi responded, in turn, by raising the USP handgun clutched in her fingers and opening fire. She started walking toward them and emptied the entire clip as they took cover, Berto and Kat behind a surplus of cargo and L'Étranger behind the closest Metal Gear RAY, inside the cubby hole it sat in.

Berto felt a need to comment on this new development as Naomi's last bullet bounced off his cover and she loaded a new clip. "She's shooting at us!"

"No, really," L'Étranger called back, "I hadn't noticed."

Deciding he had the best position to mount a counter attack, L'Étranger hopped over the RAY unit's legs and swung onto the staircase, gaining access to the upper catwalks. He intended to drop down on Naomi from above, but halfway across the catwalk that spanned the hanger's width, he looked ahead and came face-to-face with another obstacle.

Revolver Ocelot, in turn, drew one of his colts and fired. L'Étranger was quick to dive over the railing and cling to the catwalk, but he had to swing back up as soon as Naomi pointed her gun away from Berto and Kat. Ocelot, however, had made the mistake of approaching his position, and the small gap gave L'Étranger the chance to approach him and kick the gun out of his hand.

In turn, Ocelot's other hand went to another holster, but L'Étranger kicked him back before he could draw it and promptly right-hooked him across the face. "Some things, it seems, do not improve with age."

Hearing that accent and spitting out a mouthful of blood, Ocelot declared, "Bah, fucking _Frenchman..._"

"Sorry, Monsieur, only with women."

But he realized L'Étranger was right, there was no way he was going to beat _anyone_ at hand-to-hand these days. But he knew someone who could, and when he remembered that, he did something he never _dreamed_ he'd ever had any reason to do.

He _let_ Liquid out to play.

Of course, to L'Étranger, this was only a scream of agony as his arm throbbed and Naomi continued shooting at the others downstairs. Then Ocelot opened his eyes again... or he would have, if Ocelot was home.

Caught totally off guard, L'Étranger felt the spur on his boot slice at his face when Liquid kicked up. More stunned then injured, he backed off to assess this new development. Standing with the strength Ocelot didn't have, Liquid gave him a once over, pulled the tie Ocelot kept in his hair out, and flung the silver locks back behind his head. "This should prove amusing, eh?"

No sooner had he said that then L'Étranger launched himself into an attack.

Kat watched this from behind her cover, paying more attention to the situation at hand. She and Berto still had to get through Naomi.

So when she heard Naomi's gun _click_ and the magazine drop, she jumped up onto the crates, launched off, and, before Naomi could cock her gun, delivered the most elegant flying kick of her career to the woman's head. Naomi crumpled like paper, and Berto made a mental note never to make Kat mad.

Unfortunately, Naomi wasn't actually knocked out _cold,_ and she was already dragging herself to her feet, a crazed look in her eyes. Above this, L'Étranger received Liquid's favorite punch-punch-kick combination and, before he could retaliate, he also received Liquid's shoulder in his chest.

Tumbling over the railing, L'Étranger grabbed Liquid and took him down as well. While L'Étranger hit the floor, Liquid smashed into Naomi and this time, she didn't stay conscious.

Liquid rose more slowly and deliberately, his body language said he was being sarcastic as well as lazy. Kat was more then a little surprised. "The old guy did _that?_"

"Old," Liquid narrowed his eyes at her, the veins of his forehead almost bulging out even more. "I should show you how little a difference 'old' makes."

"That's not Ocelot," Berto drawled out, idly noting that Liquid was still wearing the EM shield anyway.

Liquid just laughed, turned around... and started walking away. "You'll excuse me, but there are only _two_ obnoxious little serpents crawling around, and I intend to cut them _both_ in half."

Too stunned and too happy to avoid a confrontation to really make a big deal, Berto said, "Well, that was easy."

L'Étranger dusted himself off with an air of forced dignity and scoffed. "Whatever. Can we please finish...whatever it is we came here to do?"

"Yeah yeah, Mr. Hurry-Up," Kat sighed. "Nothing new _there, _I suppose..."

On their way again, in the opposite direction Liquid had taken, it wasn't long before they reached an open, brightly lit hexagonal room with a massive drop-off into white light beneath the floor and a ladder that led up the equally massive wall. Berto checked his schematics.

"'Ascending Colon.' This is it." Berto reached into his pocket. "You can damage almost any part of this thing and it won't do much, but the impeller tubes merge down there…"

He pointed to the edge of the platform. She understood why this was important when he unrolled the little cloth from his pocket and retrieved the vial of Infinity Ice contained within. A few drops would solidify the water moving through the propulsion system and then some in sixty seconds, tops.

"That's funny," Berto hesitated, peering into the vial and noticing the compound was only filling a quarter of it, "this was full when we left..."

Caring more about their objective, Kat asked, "Does it matter?"

"No, this is _more_ then enough," Berto said, reaching into his pocket one more time and fitting the vile with a small electronic device. He switched it on, and the little red light started flashing incrementally. He promptly walked over to the railing and dropped the vile down, all of them hearing the faintest of splashes after several seconds. The homing beacon also started to display over his schematic. "I'm not gonna set it off until it's washed down the system a little, make more dead ice weight in the stern that way."

---

Liquid climbed into RAY effortlessly, but he comprehended Ocelot's changes with even less difficulty. Had he not been capable of perceiving the world through Ocelot when he wasn't in control, he would have been lost.

As it was, he knew what was what on the modified consoles, and, after closing the hatch for safety's sake, he started the procedure on his mind. Once RAY itself was powered up, he engaged the remote link that gave Ocelot manual control over Arsenal Gear and, to an extent, the production models of RAY neighboring him in the docking bay.

The manual controls were clunky and unrefined. Three or four RAYs could be controlled from the setup, but that was even less efficient. Still, Liquid decided he might be able to use one or two very shortly. But for now, he started Arsenal's primary power systems and fired the engines up.

---

Arsenal's startup sequence was more then a little bumpy. There was so much turbulence throughout the massive vessel that Berto almost fell into Kat and L'Étranger as they made their way to the Akyna. "I don't like the sound of that..."

"If he moves too fast," L'Étranger realized, "the shearing effect on the Akyna won't be pretty."

Even Kat knew the rocking they felt was probably the Akyna's docking clamps pulling against the hull as it was rocked about, which wasn't a good sign.

The three of them ran the rest of the way, and, upon getting back to the entry point, and into the Conn from the lift that sat under the Captain's chair, Berto and Kat were promptly shoved aside.

"Release docking clamps," L'Étranger barked to one of his command crew. She didn't need to be told twice. Not calming down, the masked man was quick to hit the nearest intercom even before the noise of those clamps breaking off echoed through the hull. "Engineering, reverse engines; all-back-full!"

"They'll _hear_ us," Berto warned him, shocked that L'Étranger could be _that_ foolish.

"Better they hear us then _plow_ through us!"

As much as he hated to, Berto had to admit that L'Étranger had a point.

---

Out of ammo, Snake resorted to rushing Dread and aiming for his head with the butt of his M4. Dread simply caught the gun mid-swing and wrenched it away from Snake, the now-useless weapon discarded to the roof. And this left room for pure hand-to-hand combat.

Dread didn't get the upper hand until Snake rushed at him, turning to dash up a wall, but instead of rocketing away from it, he merely flipped over, landed behind Snake and shoved his brother face-first into said wall.

Holding him there, Dread spoke right in his ear. "No weapons, just like Gray Fox, eh Solid?"

Enraged, Snake smashed an elbow into Dread's gut and backhanded him across the face. Stumbling, almost falling due to the extra weight on his back from his HF sword, Dread wiped off the drop of blood forming on his lips and chuckled.

At that moment, a massive splash of water resounded through the air, and some of that water itself sprayed the roof. Dread turned and looked down to see Metal Gear RAY landing from its leap out of the sea and getting its footing on the island. All was finally coming together. But he didn't notice that Snake was talking over his Codec.

"Hey, Shades-boy," Snake called.

Dread turned back...and nearly has an aneurism on the spot. Snake was holding the case containing the parts for Arsenal Gear, dangling it as if he expected Dread to beg like a dog as he inched towards the roof's edge.

Dread, whose temper flared, stalked toward him. "Put it down, Solid."

"I don't think so," Snake looked at his watch, almost expecting something. Right on time, Otacon flew in closer and threw something out of the Kasatka at Snake.

And Snake caught his skateboard, hopped on it at the end of the roof, and skated right off.

"Solid!" Dread yelled, running after him, determined to get back what was his. Snake's plan had one hurdle to overcome; Dread was faster. As soon as he leapt over the edge, Dread rocketed down the side of the building, casting flames behind him all the way. With Snake pulling necessary board tricks to avoid slamming into the bumps and windows along the way and Dread doing the same with fancy footwork, it was mere seconds before they reached the ground.

Snake, unfortunately, had no control over his velocity at this point and promptly went flying when his board hit a snag. Dread, on the other hand, simply angled his legs to change direction and didn't stop until he was standing over Snake, backlit by the streak of incendiary he'd left behind.

"Thank you for that performance, Evil Knievel," Dread laughed, picking up the case where Snake had dropped it. The ground rumbled as RAY walked around the N-Tek building to their new location. "But I'll be going now."

And then another torrent of water hit them. A production model RAY had leapt out of the water and landed towards the other way. Then another splashed out and landed near them on the shoreline. Much like before, Dread's impatience grew when he thought of how this was _not_ part of the plan.

"Hello, _brothers,_" Liquid shouted through RAY's intercom. "I think it's time we settle our little family matter once and for all! How about it!"

Now ignoring Snake, Dread set the case down on the grass once more, calm as ever. "How about I show you, Liquid," Dread started, pulling _Luce_, ejecting the perfectly fine magazine and replacing it with one that looked almost electronic, if the small glowing lights on the side were any indication. He did the same with _Ombra_ before putting both guns away. "That anything my brothers can do..."

The RAY unit reared back, one of them aiming a chain gun, one of them hunching over to use missiles as Liquid opened the mouth of his own RAY, ready to splatter his family across the N-Tek walls with the water gun.

"I can do better."

The water gun was going to come first; when Dread realized that, he put his gun away and pulled his sword from his back. Liquid fired, and he braced himself, held his sword up...

Everyone at the scene looked at Dread like he was insane, especially Liquid. The shot seemed to take forever, but that small eternity passed eventually, and RAY's strongest weapon, the shot from which was as large as Dread in itself, fired.

It didn't do much. Dread held his sword up and kept it there as the stream of water smashed into the HF blade. The shape of it split the water into two sprays to his sides, freakishly making half of a rainbow to his right.

When it finally stopped, Dread's boots had dug up the lawn for a good meter as he'd been pushed back, but he wasn't even flustered in the least.

It didn't end there. Turning around just as the other two RAYs fired off, Dread continued to elude them. First he almost seemed to dance around the Vulcan gun fired off by one, finally skidding backward, blocking himself from sight with the fire from his boots. When the RAY stopped firing, he dashed forward again, blazing flame across the wall of the building and using the angle to land on the robot's head.

But the other RAY could still see him, a fact made evident when it hunched over and launched a payload of missiles from its back.

Those rockets, in turn, homed in on two targets. Snake ran and dived away for his life on the ground, each missile exploding behind him. Dread, however, waited. And he waited. And then he burned into a skid and used the curve of the RAY's head to launch himself into the air again.

The missiles intended for him crashed into the Metal Gear instead, destroying one if its shoulders and the head unit. In midair, Dread swung his broadsword around once, using the weight to twist himself around, sword pointed at the other RAY's head. When he landed, the sword went through its armor plating like it were paper, sinking to the hilt.

The RAY unit let out an ear piercing mechanical shriek as Dread twisted the blade and made shreds of its control systems. As Liquid watched on, the RAY fell to its knees and stayed there as dead as the first.

With one more target, Dread drew his guns again, crossed his arms at the wrists, guns sideways, and fired.

---

"This is ridiculous," L'Étranger shouted over the calamity, grabbing a fire extinguisher from the wall and blasting it at a damaged console before the small flickers of fire erupted into full-blown flames as it was elsewhere. Half of the command crew were running around trying to control damage. "You _did_ sabotage it?"

"Of course we," Berto started, stepping away from whatever it was that had just showered him in sparks. "Of course we did, these things take time..."

The sonar operator made it clear that time was not in abundance. "Torpedoes in the water, range eight-thousand yards and closing!"

Somehow ending up back in his captain's chair, L'Étranger considered the situation. "We're lucky he's toying with us and not launching the whole damn payload at once. Reload countermeasures."

"Sir," one of his crew turned to him, looking fairly terrified despite the heavy helmet she wore. "We're out."

"You jest."

She gave him a shrug. "We weren't going to restock until Tuesday."

"Okay, that leaves Plan B," Berto tossed Kat his PDA. "Kat, see that red light? When it moves down another centimeter or so, press the button."

He promptly grabbed his laptop, still plugged into the sonar system, and shuffled over to the weapons console, shoving the corresponding officer to the side in the process. "Turn _towards_ Arsenal."

"Those torpedoes will arm long before they hit us, even then," L'Étranger told him.

"I know that, and I know what I'm doing," Berto glared at him. "Besides, we've been in worse situations then this...I can't recall _when_ at the moment..."

Waiting only for a second, L'Étranger turned to the helmsman. "Right hard rudder, bring us to bear."

"Torpedo impact, twenty seconds," someone called out.

Berto waited, and he held on as the Akyna banked around. As soon as they had turned enough, he started furiously typing a calculation into his laptop, using the results for a firing solution he entered at the same time.

He pressed the trigger. Still in its turn, the Akyna started leveling off as one of the forward beam cannons came to life, swiping in a precisely pre-determined arc. It crossed the first torpedo's path dead on and detonated it.

He repeated the process and hit the second torpedo as well, but it had been closer, and the Akyna suffered from the explosion even if it wasn't a direct hit.

Kat couldn't catch herself and she fell, none the worse for wear, but losing Berto's PDA. Scrambling to grab it before someone stepped on it, she noticed that red dot had gotten where Berto had told her to watch for.

So she pressed the button.

Deep inside Arsenal Gear's propulsion system, the small vial Berto had dropped in was still tumbling aimlessly around. And then the little tracking device on top exploded.

When the Infinity Ice hit the water, it froze it over in a rapidly expanding, oversized ice cube, and it didn't stop. The water going through Arsenal's propulsion system turned solid in less then a minute. When the ice hit the outside, it started wrapping around the hull. As it crept inside the seams of rivets and hatches, freezing even parts of the interior, Arsenal Gear slowed from its already sluggish pace and started to drop deeper into the bay, spikes forming on the outside as the ice started expanding outward.

By this time, the Akyna had passed right over it and had put a fairly large gap between them again.

This was not lost on Berto. "Now who wants to see what happens when you crack an iceberg?"

He pressed the fire button once more. A single torpedo shot out from one of the Akyna's aft tubes, and it streaked through the water unhindered. Once it struck a part of Arsenal that had frozen over and detonated, the ice cracked. That crack turned into a web of cracks, and those cracks spread until the ice, and Arsenal itself, most of its hull turned brittle from the cold, split down in a line off center where one of the propulsion tubes had been frozen for longer. It didn't actually break in half, but it broke open and truly sank.

And everyone on the Akyna's bridge caught their breath, relieved at the fact that no one was firing on them anymore.

---

No bullet came from the guns. The slides didn't even move back. Instead, a blue field of EMP gathered at the end of each muzzle, and then it shout out and hit RAY right on the cockpit, shorting out every single system Liquid had his hands on...a mere instant before Liquid fired off RAY's last anti-tank missile.

Joined by Max on the ground, Snake watched as RAY twitched and stumbled from the blasts of Electro-Magnetism, and as Dread promptly spun on his heels and hid behind the dead RAY he had stood on.

The missile from Liquid's Metal Gear slammed into the steel corpse, and it didn't provide Dread the cover he expected. Blown out by the impact, a huge chunk of debris separated from Dread's side, cracked him in the head, and dropped him like a stone.

Desperately trying to regain control of RAY and having a small measure of success as its EMP sinks did their job, Liquid shouted out over the intercom and took a clumsy step towards Snake and Max, cockpit hatch halfway open so he could see. "Time to say goodbye!"

"My kingdom for a Stinger," Snake pined.

And then a missile streaked through the air and smashed RAY square I the shoulder. Another streaked down and hit closer to its head. Everyone looked up in time to see a small, two-man aircraft zoom by, barely higher in altitude then RAY was tall.

"What the hell," Snake blinked.

But Max recognized it instantly. "That's a _Hawk._" Zooming in as the Hawk banked around for another pass, Max caught the pilot's face. "Dad, you saved our asses..."

  
And Jefferson fully intended to make sure it stayed that way. Another pair of ATG missiles streaked from the Hawk's wings and exploded across RAY's back, Liquid unable to turn fast enough to keep up in its crippled state. Briefly, Max wondered how his father had hidden a Hawk from the Feds all this time, but he didn't care.

On the other hand, Liquid cared. He forced the hatch open all the way and stood, abandoning the sluggish controls for a Stinger launcher propped over his shoulder. In no time at all, he took aim at the small craft and fired.

Jefferson dropped decoys, but he had been too close to Metal Gear from the onset and the Stinger missile punched a hole through his left wing. Hawks were made to stay in the air despite such damage and, with a cloud of black trailing from him, he quickly recovered from the blast and started a glide down to the mainland not far away.

Seeing that Max had been completely distracted by the sight of his father in danger, Snake reached over and yanked the grapple gun from his belt.

Liquid was just looking down at them when he saw the line of high-tensile wire fly at him, but he wasn't fast enough to stop the grapple from looping around his weapon, hooking onto it's own wire, and yanking back from the surprisingly strong motor in the gun.

At a loss for words, Liquid didn't even try to come up with a curse for this lunacy. After all, Solid Snake was _that_ annoying.

He didn't move when Snake grabbed the launcher and fired a missile at him, either. Said missile curved radically off target as it approached, harmlessly sailing off into the air. "Did you think Ocelot was incompetent enough to _not_ wear it, Snake?"

Liquid sat back down in the cockpit, forcing RAY to move and testing how much longer it would be before the EMP effect was completely non-existent. The hatch started closing again as well.

"I'll show him incompetent," Max growled. "Going turbo!"

Snake felt the gust of wind blow by him as Max broke into his run. His steps were careful, deliberate, and extraordinarily fast: first he hopped on Dread's back as he was just standing, knocking him right back onto his face. Pushing off, he landed on the dead Metal Gear Dread had tried to hide behind and kicked off of that even harder, flipping over exactly once in midair, and landing just behind Liquid's cockpit high up on the original RAY. Catching the hatch, he wrapped one arm around the bottom and forced it to hold open, the gears grinding against him.

And Liquid pulled one of Ocelot's guns. "Stupid child."

He pulled the trigger and...nothing. Liquid had forgotten to pull the hammer back. Perplexed, Liquid was vulnerable. Max pulled his arm away from the hatch for the time it took to grab Liquid's collar, pull him close, and deliver the mother of all head-butts to his face.

With Liquid falling backwards into the pilot's seat, blood running from his nose and stars around his head, Max grabbed the EM shield from his belt, crushed it in his hand before he could feel it drain him further, and pulled the hatch back again. He planted a foot on the other side of the cockpit for more leverage. Finally looking back at Snake, who still had his weapon in hand, he called down, "Fire the Stinger!"

And Snake simply froze, his finger twitching. The similarity was like a fuse going out in his mind, instantly bringing him right back to that hanger bay at Shadow Moses.

He couldn't fire with Fox in the way, but he couldn't fire with Max in the way either. And so much time went by as he remembered Fox pinned to the ledge by REX's beak, Liquid sitting there as an otherwise perfect target, that Max seemed to notice he was most certainly _not_ firing to the point where he tried to hold the hatch open even more...

But Max was so rooted in his own task that he hadn't seen Dread stand up either. Snake didn't notice him at all until Dread spoke, "He who hesitates is a damned fool," getting his attention before slugging him in the face and taking the Stinger himself.

Dread hesitated for a different reason. Long enough for Max's face to fall at the realization his efforts had been for naught. Dread liked that. He liked the feeling he experienced from letting the crosshairs sit on Max himself even as Liquid pulled himself out in a daze, one last shot in the launcher, one shot with which he could annihilate the one man who _always_ brought him to ruin.

"Satan, thy name is Max Steel," Dread smiled, aiming lower and pulling the trigger.

Max could already tell he wasn't the target, but he didn't care why Dread had done this at the moment. Instead, he stood up on RAY's head, still holding the cockpit hatch open as much as possible.

Liquid saw the missile at the same time Max leapt off of Metal Gear and crashed through a window into the N-Tek building. He was only able to do so because he was still in Turbo Mode, Liquid realized he wouldn't be able to make that jump in the split second he had to act, so he leapt the other way, deciding to tuck and roll on the ground.

Except he'd forgotten that the hatch had been trying to close all this time. Without Max holding it anymore, it sat still for a second...then snapped down, both ends catching his right arm just below the elbow as he fell away, crushing it hard. Liquid screamed a loud, terrible cry as the missile slipped through the gap his arm held open, but not from the violent explosion that totally obliterated Metal Gear's cockpit. The hatch kept trying to close, and Liquid's voice started to fade, just as loud but slowly becoming Ocelot's.

Before it went totally off line, Metal Gear's last bit of power snapped the hatch shut, severing the arm completely. And Liquid Snake died right then, Ocelot falling to the grass below.

Finally dropping out of Turbo Mode, Max managed to raise his head and realize, with some amusement, he had crashed into the same lab Dread had held up earlier. Powering down, Josh figured he might as well at least _try_ to move. He felt like he was running on fumes, but after some effort, he even managed to stand up.

Then more glass shattered, and Snake flew by him, clearly not by choice, smashing into the far wall. Before Josh could even turn around, something heavy pressed against his back and, almost instantly, he felt an electric current.

A very strong one. His voice totally lost, he collapsed unconscious. Behind him, Dread watched as trails of smoke curled up from his HF sword; getting through the insulation Josh's nanoprobes provided had taken more juice then he thought it would.

---

The first thing Josh realized when he woke up was that his arms were sore. The fact that this was because his wrists were handcuffed to a table above his head was the second thing he realized. At the very least, it was a pretty low table, and the only reason there was any semblance of suspension was the fact that he was stretched out.

Naturally, on reflex, he tested the strength of his bonds before his eyes were even focuses. For all the good it did; before he could see clearly, he could see Dread standing not far off, in front of a door blocked with all kinds of heavy paraphernalia.

"Don't pick at your handcuffs Josh," Dread smiled, leaning forward on his sword. "It's rude."

"Funny," came the answer, "I'd call this entire scene pretty damned masochistic."

Laughing at that, Dread straightened his posture and waited...and waited...and when Josh discreetly maneuvered his hands around in a better position and flipped his Biolink out to press that magic button, Dread drew _Ombra_ and fired so fast it would've made Ocelot's head spin.

The bullet cracked through the middle of Josh's Biolink, totally obliterating the interface. The metal was strong enough to keep it from hitting flesh, and Josh could already feel the nanoprobes healing the inevitable bruise. But they would take a lot longer, and probably a lot more T-juice, to fix the gauntlet; Max wasn't going to come out to play.

His voice rather dull, Josh responded to this with a simple statement. "Nice shot."

"I try," Dread holstered his weapon, briefly pulling _Luce_ out to switch the expended EM clip with a real one. He didn't actually cock it before putting it away. "So, here we are, _Mr. Steel._ Have you figured it out yet, or are you ignorant even now?"

Glancing up at his bonds again, Josh said, "Dread, I've figured out that you're a lying, backstabbing, deranged, and downright neurotic man, and frankly, I don't _care_ about anything else."

More then a little insulted, Dread's face turned to a frown behind his thin shades. "Brave words. But you won't leave here alive to do anything about it. Neither will my dear brother, for that matter," he turned and looked at the still-unconscious Snake for a moment. "This was, I suppose you could say, my secondary objective."

"Secondary?" Josh asked before he could stop himself. Now he was confused...wasn't Dread's entire plan to kill them all and be rid of them so he could take Arsenal Gear out and hold the world for ransom?

"Of course," was the answer, as if Josh should've known. "My dear boy, you think I _care_ about you, and Snake, and your friends scurrying about in your altruistic delusions of stopping me? I never _wanted_ Arsenal Gear to begin with; I used you to _destroy _it!"

Josh blinked. "You are completely out of your mind."

This time, Dread didn't feel insulted. "Think about it, Josh. I lured you and Solid to that island, where _Vamp, _not you, released your friends. It was so unexpectedly easy, I must admit. A few choice words from Vamp and your friends were down to the computers in minutes destroying that loathsome AI, acting out of self preservation. I might add that I _allowed_ it access to the island's computers so they could arm the nuclear warhead. And I'll clue you in, Josh; I didn't _wait_ for the AI to be dead, I started usurping its control long before that, too slowly to notice and first, and by the time it realized something was wrong, I was already in too far."

Tossing this information around in his head, Josh put the pieces together. He remembered what Otacon was talking about the other day, about how he and Berto had destroyed the Wisemen's Committee, and that was the seat of the Patriots... "You've...but _how..._how can you do that unnoticed?"

"Call it a design flaw," Dread yanked his sword from the ground and started to pace, running a hand over one flat edge of the large blade. "Even the highest ranking Patriots don't know who the Wisemen's Committee are. Or more precisely, _what_ they are. All you need is the names of the people they give orders to, and then you just prevent those orders from ever being received and substitute your own. That was why I faked my death again, Josh, I needed less then a low profile, I needed _no_ profile. I couldn't have that if even one person ever traced something to me, and I especially couldn't do that with you breathing down my neck at every turn. I arranged for N-Tek's espionage division to be terminated just after I broke out of prison. Not that I 'broke out,' I had enough contacts already to simply stage the entire thing. I knew precisely what Jefferson would do with me, it was only a matter of time."

"Everything..._everything_ we've been doing," Josh muttered, staring blankly at the ground, his eyes roving to find a spot to focus on and not succeeding. "You've just _planned_ it all?"

"Not all of it," Dread thought back, "Psycho has only been with me for three months or so, I had a hard time tracking him down while he freelanced. In more recent events, I hadn't intended for Dr. Martinez to get a first hand lesson in KGB interrogation tactics, but alas, Ocelot's rather insistent on these things. Or he _was_. Be that as it may, this all went rather smoothly. Arsenal Gear is gone, once I assume power I can see to it that it's never salvaged. You see, that's where they always went wrong. They had too much infrastructure, too much people could _see._ You don't _need_ to censor digital information to control the populace, only to satiate your own ego. Metal Gears, nanoprobes..."

"And now, a word from our sponsor," Josh deadpanned. "Get on with it, Dread."

"The point is, I don't need to do that, Josh, I only want to do what's right. And so I shall."

"By taking away free will and the things people cherish away," a groggy voice called out. Dread turned again to watch as Snake woke up, already struggling against his cuffs. "I don't see a difference here."

"There _is_ a difference, Brother," Dread smiled. "Ocelot told you the S3 plan is a method of recreating you in another soldier. That's not entirely accurate. Oh, it can create a new Solid Snake, but that's not scratching the surface at all. Imagine the application that can have on normal people, Solid. Imagine a scientifically proven method that can change people into _you,_ and scale it down. Imagine the presidential candidate saying the exact things that will guarantee an election without a rigged vote. Imagine conditioning terrorist organizations to believe that their opinion is wrong without firing a shot, or manipulating the employees of major corporations to conveniently give up illegal business tactics? Imagine turning the young man mowing lawns as a summer job into a carbon copy of today's greatest soldier. It all sounds very abstract, but it's easy to see what this means. It's all the same, and the S3 is _that_ well developed, Solid. I can make everyone do what's right for everyone; it's a simple matter of checking any given situation against the S3 behavior management conditions and making the right phone calls."

"Heh," Snake rolled his eyes. "You all just get worse. Liquid wants to make war-not-love this, Solidus wants to kill the Patriots that, you want to _be_ the Patriots..."

"It's better to be the devil then to serve him, Solid," Dread chuckled. "After all of your missions fueled by plausibly denied bureaucracy, you're an expert on that."

"Keep your metaphors to yourself," Snake rolled his eyes, trying not to look obvious. If Shadow Moses had taught him one thing, it was to always carry a lock pick, and he was currently using it. "You're giving me a headache."

"What the hell's the _point,_ Dread," Josh was equally disinterested, having long discarded any suspicions that Dread might have any sanity left. "You were working toward all of that two years ago! What's the _difference?_"

"The difference is, Josh, that my organization _didn't work,_" he growled, genuinely angered at this point. For the moment, Josh thought he'd simply hit a nerve, reminding Dread of all the defeats Max had handed him. But Snake heard something deeper in his voice as he went on. "Oh, it was a good idea, and I tried, I _tried_ to make it work! I always thought with more time, more money...I was bound to surmount the massive hill that was _you,_ Mr. Steel. Except you weren't the real problem. I only found this out very recently; in fact, you'd be surprised what information I plucked from the AI along with the S3 plan. Did you know the Patriots were influencing _us,_ Josh? All through our little games, they were watching, taking action when needed, steering things in just the right directions to make sure the balance between us never really changed until it was I who fell from grace. After that, they would've knocked N-Tek over in flames long before I did if they still had the ability. And do you know how they _did_ all this?"

"Let me guess," Josh drawled. "Your mother? Oh wait, she's a test tube."

"I'll choose to ignore that," Dread answered, more amused by what he was about to say. "It was Mairot."

The name left a bitter taste in Dread's mouth, but to Josh, the revelation's irony was intoxicating. "Mairot? Hah! Your mole was a mole, eh Dread? Now raise your hand if you feel like an idiot."

"Make your jokes, Josh," Dread chuckled. He finally stopped pacing around and shoved his sword several inches into the floor. Taking off his shades and wiping them off on his shirt, he went on without even looking up. "The fact is, he hurt you more then I would have had him. And he hurt me, too. I imagine I would've beaten you long ago if it wasn't for his meddling, but, as I said, _they_ thought there had to be a balance until I was out of the picture. Who knows, maybe, unhindered, _you_ would've beaten _me._ But he didn't allow it. Conveniently sending your best equipment into the field while telling us the best way to destroy it all. Allocating N-Tek's funds away so you could never rebuild your infrastructure, the things I wanted to take for myself were never _meant_ for either of us, they hoped bringing us down over time would make it that much easier to bring us down period. I can say it was certainly easy to topple N-Tek over. He blithely _embezzled_ from _my_ fortune and I never even _knew_ it! I was _funding_ the Patriots!"

Rolling his eyes, Josh answered, "So sad, Dread. Psycho must've _really_ pissed them off when he dumped the suspension tank on me."

"Actually, he did," laughed Dread. "The AI was easily angered. Especially after Big Boss pulled his little stunt in France..."

Snake almost dropped his lock pick. "Are you saying what I _think_ you're saying?"

"You didn't know?" Dread turned to him, honestly surprised. "You thought it was _them,_ didn't you?"

Snake's response was to stare at Dread, awaiting more information.

And Dread was happy to oblige. "No, Brother, the Patriots aren't responsible for us, our _father_ is responsible for us."

"That doesn't make any sense..."

"Oh, but it does. Who else could have seen the potential in one's own children being just like you are besides Big Boss? He had a big dream, Solid. An army of his own family, every bit as competent as he was to embrace and protect Outer Heaven...he knew the right people, and those people started the Les Effants Terribles project..."

"I can't stand it anymore," Josh shook his head madly, his mind at the breaking point. "You _bastard_...don't you _know_ you're saying 'the _the_ Terrible Children?'"

Realizing his thunder had been blithely stolen, Dread snatched _Ombra_ from its holster and fired off a shot. Josh didn't flinch, but then, he didn't need to. The bullet grazed the chain of his handcuffs, coming oh-so-close to breaking them. "To get back to my point, Solid...Big Boss started the project because he had an...interesting view of how a man can raise a family. I'm sure you figured out he sent you to Outer Heaven in the first place to get _rid_ of you. Since the project had proven a success in the creation stage, he wanted to start anew. Liquid and Solidus evaded him too, of course."

"And you?" Snake asked.

"I, it seems, am the only one who was ever on speaking terms with the man," Dread snickered. "Being the genetic accident that I am. When the project directors were choosing which of our brothers to abort, they noticed certain...defects in me. And you know how scientists are, they can't resist going over their mistakes with a fine-tooth comb, so I was spared. I told you I renounced the namesake, that's not entirely true. I was never given a name to begin with: Solid, Solidus, Liquid, and the defect. That's why _I_ don't look exactly like you do, why you and Liquid are blond and I'm not and so fourth. You might say Big Boss _was_ my father in the same way he _wasn't_ for the three of you. And then I found out what his life _really _was...I was crushed, you see? I couldn't comprehend that the man was evil. And then you killed him, and I decided it was time to right his wrongs."

"You just keep thinking that, Dread," Josh spat in his direction. "But you can't fix terrorism with terrorism!"

Answering that, Dread almost seemed deeply hurt. "Oh yes you can, until the Patriots found me, anyway. _That's_ why I left N-Tek; I thought with enough time, something like N-Tek could catch up to them and end it all, but it didn't work, so I tried something else. I grew weary of being a pawn, pushed and prodded in one single direction under anyone's control but my own. Everything was always taken from us. From _me._ The chance to lead a normal life...to raise a family...even Jefferson helped take that."

Josh didn't want to hear this; it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out where Dread was going. But the defiant look on his face gave away that it struck a nerve.

"Oh, surely, Josh, you must've wondered sometimes why Jefferson was so _eager_ to take you in. The truth is, after your mother died, Jefferson was elsewhere in the world on business for corporate N-Tek and I was the only one around who could give Jim a shoulder to cry on. Ironic, isn't it?" Dread was looking at the ground himself now, digging through the painful memory of seeing a friend after his loss, so worried for what was left. "He asked _me_ to look after you if anything happened to him. Jefferson was starting to suspect something was amiss, though. He didn't waste any time getting to you first, to this day I think he figured me out before I'd even faked my death. But he never had proof. So you see, things like that, and the fact that my brothers and I were more then just engineered, we were _violated_ before birth...well, need you _wonder_ why I'm bitter?"

"Poor you," Snake said. "All bitchy because you can't get what you want. Guess what Pal; that's life. There are more ways to pass on a legacy besides having children."

"As if the legacy," Dread turned to Snake, "of the world's most infamous environmental terrorist is something you wanted to pass on, Snake?"

Snake didn't have a reply for that.

"And I _always_ get what I want," smiled Dread, yanking the stolen nanosword off of his belt.

Taking careful aim, he fired at Josh one more time, and this shot destroyed the chain of his cuffs completely. He hit the ground and fell flat on his face.

"There's a certain destiny handed to myself as well as my brothers," Dread holstered his gun, tossing the nanosword into the air. It landed next to Josh's hand, and he was quick to pick it up and flip the switch. "From our birth we were doomed to be the ultimate experiment, some of us more then others. Liquid hated Big Boss because he 'chose' Solid instead, and Solid hates him for what the man he was. In a way, so do I. But I hate him even more because he 'chose' _all_ of us, without _any_ thought to the consequences of his actions or the lives that he created. And so, here we are, the pinnacle of Father's dream; sons that followed in dear old Dad's footsteps to claim the world as their battlefield. You of _all_ people should understand that, Josh. Look at yourself, taking after Jim with every bit of your life and your soul until some foolish madman calling himself a terrorist gets a lucky shot on _you,_ as well. That's all it takes, Josh; do you ever think about that?"

"To tell you the truth," Josh looked him straight in the eyes, not budging an inch. The nanosword scraped on the ground and he rose to his feet, ready for the duel that was bound to come. "I _don't_ think about it. I don't _want_ to think about it, because I _know_ it'll happen one day. But that's life, and it's _my_ life. I don't need psychotic dictators giving me advice, Dread. You realize _you're_ the foolish madman?"

"Not a madman, Josh," smiled Dread. "My brothers and I are called _monsters,_ replicates of evil genes. Made to relish in war and killing, to flourish in the dark side of humanity. And I _am_ a monster, because I _do_ relish in it. In every life I've taken. What besides a monster can _still_ feel that, when shooting one of his best friends?"

It hit Josh then, and his heart skipped a beat. It was the bleeding _obvious,_ so _easy_ to figure this out, but he'd never put two and two together. His eyes grew wide, and he found no words to express the sheer amount of rage and loathing he felt.

"And by the way, Josh," Dread didn't even need to say it. But he did anyway, pointing his massive HF blade at his enemy. "**I** was the one who killed your father."

---

Ocelot was pissed. Dread had actually _shot_ him, with a goddamned Stinger _missile_ of all things. But on the other hand, it had been a partial blessing; Liquid was gone. The voice no longer chewed at his mind, and for the first time since Shadow Moses, he felt _free._

Still, there was the whole lack-of-arm thing to deal with. And deal with it he would, after getting _out_ of here. If Naomi's new nanoprobes worked like they were supposed to, he could just grow a new one anyway.

Of course, they were supposed to destroy Liquid from the inside, as well, and Ocelot saw how far _that_ had gone.

He was also a little annoyed when he reached N-Tek's underwater docking bay and realized every single submersible had been taken when Jefferson ordered the evacuation. And the Typhoon class submarine surfacing in the dock didn't bode well, either.

So Ocelot, good hand holding his rumpled duster over his brand new stub, turned around.

And came face to face with Vamp. "Don't _do_ that, you damn near gave me a heart attack!"

"Such a pity it would have been," Vamp smiled. Pulling a throwing knife from his belt, he snaked his tongue across the blade, happy at the blood this produced. "What I have planned is much more fun."

Controlling himself, Ocelot took a step back and spoke calmly. "And that would be?"

"It's a surprise." Vamp stepped toward him in kind, and Ocelot found his hand edging closer to a Colt.

"I never figured _you_ for a backstabber. A freak, maybe."

"Oh, we're all backstabbers, Ocelot," Vamp told him, "you know Queen was _never_ working on getting Liquid out of you?"

That floored Ocelot, and he quickly dropped his coat, drew a gun and fired.

Vamp merely stepped to the side. "Two years, Ocelot. I've been waiting for this...for _two years,_ and the fact that you have no idea why angers me more then anything."

"Enlighten me," Ocelot pulled the hammer back and fired again, but Vamp dodged in due kind.

"You killed them."

  
"Oh, _that_ narrows...it...down," Ocelot started to trail off, the revelation totally absurd to him. "You can't be _serious._"

"Even I have morals, Ocelot," Vamp plucked another knife from his belt. "They number in the single digits, but I have them. You killed someone who meant a great deal to me on the tanker two years ago. Solidus promised me your head when we were done, but it was never his to give, considering everything that was planned for him. You notice I wasn't on top of Arsenal Gear with the rest of you. Then you killed Fortune, and I was _still_ forced to wait. Revenge may be a trivial thing, but that doesn't mean I won't enjoy it."

Snarling, Ocelot aimed for Vamp's head and fired, and Vamp raised one of his knives...

---

"I'm not going to kill you, Dread," Josh taunted his adversary, ducking under a massive swing from his broadsword. "You're not worth that effort."

"You don't think so?" Dread smiled, guiding Josh's nanosword away from his face with a well-timed parry. "Your father didn't think so. He was foolish enough not to bring a gun when he _knew_ he'd catch me red-handed setting the largest piece of Semtex you've ever _seen_ under this very room, and look what happened to _him._"

"I'd rather watch you _rot_ again," Josh spat, trying to strike from a lower position, but Dread pushed him back again. "Can you break out without the country slaving for you?"

"The question is, can you imprison me _and_ break my control at the same time?" Dread answered, swinging parallel to the ground with the intent of slicing Josh clean in half. Josh was smart enough to back off, so Dread used the momentum to spin on his heels, take a step closer, and swing downward. Josh still evaded him. "No, you can't. But I'll tell you _this_ much, Josh, if you kill me, Vamp and Psycho will have neither the knowledge nor the monetary inclination to become the Wisemen's Committee. If you kill me, it all ends. And if you don't kill me, we'll see how easy it is to capture me when **I** kill **you.**"

---

The submarine Ocelot had noticed didn't take long to fully surface. And after Berto and Kat had left it, L'Étranger wasted no time in leaving, his contract fulfilled. Even as he left, however, Berto couldn't shake the foreboding feeling he had. "Is it me, or does something smell like... blood?"

"I'd gather it's because something _does,_" Kat answered, nudging him and directing him to look at a different wall. Kat had controlled herself, but Berto couldn't help jumping in fright at the sight that greeted him.

Ocelot was crucified on the wall...sort of. His good arm was nailed to said wall with several knives, as was what was left of his other arm. The part that was gone had been painted on the wall in Ocelot's own blood, complete with a handprint and more knives sticking through it.

A combat knife sat, embedded to the hilt, in his forehead.

At that moment, the hatch into the underground corridors opened, and Otacon, having landed his Kasatka out front and in desperate search of people, came running in. "There you are- yyeeee!"

He was equally stunned.

"I am _not_ cleaning that up," Kat remarked.

After she said this, Vamp stepped out of the shadows behind them, unnoticed until he spoke. "You won't have to. I'll drink him dry."

Quick on the reflexes, Otacon grabbed an errant lead pipe propped against the wall, swung around, and tried to bash Vamp's head open, but Vamp merely caught said pipe and tossed it away before lifting Otacon up by the neck. "You know, Dr. Emmerich, I'm sorry about your sister. Really. She was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Such is life, and such is death. But _you_ are starting to annoy me!"

His breath visible, Vamp bared his fangs. And Otacon reached into his pocket and pressed something against Vamp's hand.

Vamp howled in shock when the sensation hit him. Otacon fell from his hand as it iced over from the inside-out, the bluish crystal spreading up his arm, beyond his control even as he flailed about trying to make it stop.

The coating went through his chest, his other arm, and down his legs, freezing even his clothes solid. His head and face came last, locked in an expression of twisted agony, desperate to get out. But he wasn't getting out.

"I was hoping that was something nasty," Otacon, from his place on the floor, coughed out. Berto looked down and saw an injection gun in his hand, the rest of his Infinity Ice, minus the few drops Vamp had gotten, loaded into it.

And Kat picked up the pipe Otacon had tried to strike Vamp with. Except she casually tossed it and watched the lead crash through Vamp's midsection, splintering the ice and turning him into a pile frozen inhuman parts. "Oh, oops, look what I did."

---

Dread wondered in the back of his mind if Josh would have been more...vocal in his rage if he could be Max right now. The way Josh stared at him with quiet, focused anger wasn't unnerving, per se, but it wasn't particularly a good thing, because it meant he was letting his anger focus him as opposed to letting it _control_ him.

And what didn't kill you only made you stronger. Not to be deterred, Dread brought his sword up to deflect Josh's and, seeing a possible opening, twisted his wrist around and stabbed forward before Josh could recover. Ducking his head to the side before Dread's massive blade could spear it like shish kabob he brought the nanosword up and used the flat edge to shove Dread's sword further away. The light-green blade slide down its HF antithesis, Josh hoping to run Dread through right there, but Dread's reflexes were faster and he pulled his weapon back, catching the nanosword on the hilt.

Both of them held there, vainly putting force towards the other and neither giving an inch. A grin on his face, Dread said, "If I'd have known telling you those things would have gotten such a good fight out of you, I would've done it long ago."

Josh's response was a near-inhuman snarl filled with so much hate that Dread was actually _glad_ he'd never said a word; poor Psycho never would've survived the onslaught, as he was usually in the middle of everything. And Psycho _was_ a good lackey to have around.

Pulling his sword back and breaking the stalemate, Josh hopped to the side as Dread's HF sword swung down from the force he'd been applying. Playing the part of the acrobat before Dread could recover, Josh hurled himself backward, flipping over the blade before Dread raised it again and kicking him across the face in the process. The position he ended up in was equally opportunistic; his judgment clouded by the anger of being stricken, Dread swung for his neck, and Josh crouched under, hurled himself forward and went for the same place on Dread.

Unfortunately, Dread was quick to step back and the nanosword's tip didn't even graze his skin. Unsatisfied, Josh didn't stop and, spinning on his heels, slashed again at Dread's ankles. Hopping over the blade, Dread brought his own weapon down hard from overhead, but he was too slow and Josh side-stepped yet again. Instead of trying to hit him with the sword again, Josh shifted his weight to make the strike and used his fists instead.

The wind knocked out of him, Dread quickly stepped away for a breather, sword held high. "I believe it's time to end this, Josh."

Dread pulled his sword back, the high-frequency blade surging with power. Josh didn't have the strength to guard against the blow that was coming, he was too tired from low energy levels and whatever bruises Dread had given him.

But he tried, and when Dread swung, Josh held fast. The blade clanged against his nanosword, and he had to hop backward on bad footing to stop from losing his head. But he lost his weapon; the force of the blow tore it right from his hands and it clattered to the ground not far away.

It was too far to risk going after, especially when Dread swung around and tried to cleave him in two. Josh dodged to the side, trying to get closer to where his weapon had fallen.

His opponent wouldn't let him, though. Dread tried to downright impale him on the broadsword, and he almost succeeded, but Josh ducked around the heavy blade, took a step forward and swung a fist into Dread's stomach before he could recover. His other fist smashed Dread across the face, taking a chunk out of his shades.

Dread didn't appear to mind. He simply brought his sword up and slashed it down. This time, Josh decided he wasn't going to beat Dread like this, not at this disadvantage. The nanosword was nearly at his feet, but he couldn't go for it yet, so he took the chance, reached up...

And he caught Dread's heavy blade between his hands before it could split his head open. Stepping back, Josh held fast as Dread tried to pry his weapon away.

"I guess Solid never bothered to warn you about HF swords," Dread chuckled. Before Josh could ponder that, the sword itself crackled with power and sent a current through him even the nanoprobes couldn't insulate against.

He didn't want to give Dread the satisfaction of crying out, but he couldn't help it, and Josh realized, a bit uselessly, that this was what shocked him and knocked him out in the first place. The sword didn't have its full charge this time, so Dread pulled it back and kicked Josh into the table, watching as he bounced back but fell to his knees in the process. Right on top of it, Josh reached for the nanosword with a scorched hand, only to watch Dread kick it away.

And then he felt Dread's hand wrap around his head, shoving him upright and holding him there so he wouldn't fall over. His sword tumbled softly in his other hand, he caught it when it pointed to the ground like a dagger, raising it only to reach his shades, pull them off and toss them away. Even his new scar was almost gone, and his eye was no longer tinted with unnatural color. "No joy, or pain. Tell the devil I sent you, Josh."

He raised the broadsword up. It pulsed one more time, and Josh realized this would do more then slice him apart; he would be better off hurling himself into a meat grinder. Franticly trying to think of a way out, he glared up at Dread, defiant until the end, unwilling to give the man an inch if he could help it. And he noticed...that Dread wore his guns _backwards_, he drew them with the opposite arm; they were pointing in just the right direction...

So he reached up as Dread's sword went higher and higher... but the sword was heavy, too heavy, and it took Dread too long to bring it above his head. He realized he couldn't be fast enough as Josh snatched _Ombra_ from its holster and pressed the muzzle up to his chest.

"Goodbye, Dread."

The shot seemed even louder against Dread's body, but Snake didn't hear it. It was almost anticlimactic yet horribly dramatic at the same time; he tore the handcuffs off at that moment, the slug pinging off the wall above his head. It trailed a thin line of blood through the air, dropping it to the ground in a drizzle.

For the briefest of moments, Dread didn't move. He could feel his arms going numb, then his hands, and then his sword tumbled to the ground harmlessly as he stumbled back. Blood in his mouth, he reached a hand to his back and felt for the exit wound, for all the good it would do.

There were no second thoughts in Josh's head, no regrets. It wasn't like he hadn't thought he'd killed Dread twice before. In fact, this was even more invigorating, to shoot the man at point blank range and put him down for good. Lost in his thoughts, Josh realized the weapon was empty. He noticed something else as he turned it in his hand; there was another inscription on the other side of the slide, he hadn't noticed it before. Dread always wielded it with the name facing out.

Jesus Christ is in Heaven now.

And Josh chuckled, wondering if Dread's ego was _that_ large; to leave a message like that after it was over. He thought it _was_ over. Dread would simply bleed to death, his heart pulverized.

Hardly able to stand anymore with his shirt so soaked in red that blood started dropping off instead of staining it further, Dread managed to stay on his feet a little longer. "You'll...never have a quiet world, Josh," he coughed, voice wet, "until you knock the Patriotism from the human race..."

With that, he reached to his side, pulled _Luce_ from his belt and, with no small amount of effort, managed to cock the slide. Josh swore under his breath; to come so far and be rid of Dread once and for all, only to be stricken down because he forgot to take the other gun...

Dread aimed...then another hand came down over his gun, and Snake pried it out of his hand as if it were a simple act in a script before shoving him back. Dread had no more to give, he tried to utter a curse as he fell, but all that came out of his mouth was a simple gargle of blood. Snake didn't touch him after that, he lost his footing and toppled over on the spot.

Standing there, Josh watched him bleed to death, a stark contrast to Snake, who simply walked away from his own dying brother and tossed the gun toward its twin on the ground, plucking his cigarettes from the jump-suit's only pocket and taking a long drag off of one as soon as it was lit. "First time, Kid?"

Josh knew what he meant, though he was so fixated on the blood still leaking from Dread to realize Snake was talking to him for a second. "Hmm?" He looked up. "No. Well, first time I don't have to be paranoid he'll pull a Vamp."

"If you want something done right," Snake stood beside him and turned to face the last of his family again. "Just shoot 'em in the first place."

"I just killed your brother." This time, Josh sounded uneasy. After all, every time he thought Psycho or Dread or the random crazy of the day had finally bought the farm, he'd never had a consequence to care about. Like what he'd done to their families.

"So?" Snake blinked, his cancer stick bobbing up and down with his lips.

Stunned, Josh turned to face him. "Dude. I just _killed_ your _brother._"

"He wasn't my brother," Snake shrugged. "Of course, I say that a lot. I say it a lot about Liquid and Solidus, too. But family is more then sharing common blood or being conceived in the same lab culture. It's about ideals and actions. For people like us, people like _me..._ there _is_ no definition of family. The people in your family are people you can love, and I'll be damned if that's a bunch of weirdoes with delusions of grandeur."

Josh watched as, after one last gasp for breath, Dread stopped moving entirely. "How do you just think of it like that with a gun to their heads? It was hard with Mairot, I didn't even _know_ him very well, and I knew what had to be done, but..."

"I can do it because we're not just tools of the government, or anyone else," Snake reached behind his head with his cigarette-free hand and, for the first time Josh ever saw, untied his headband. "Fighting is the only thing I'm good at, but at least I always fight for what I believe in. So do you. That's all you need, Kid."

"People like us don't really have anything else, do we," Josh said, already knowing the answer. It didn't bring him down, though. "There are the normal lives we could have, and then there's this. We always pick this."

"Then this _is_ normal," Snake told him. "This is what we're good at. It's what we do. And unlike my esteemed relatives, we can at least tell ourselves that it's the right thing to do if only because it's to help people. You remind me of me years ago, you know."

Josh deadpanned. "That's a scary thought."

"Very funny. But you do. I was about your age during Outer Heaven, and Fox was about my age now."

"So?"

"So," Snake rolled his eyes, "thank god you've already _done_ this before because I do _not_ feel compelled to take Fox's shoes and help the rookie."

Holding out his hand, Snake offered Josh the headband.

Josh summarily blinked at it. "What's this for?"

"Not a fucking thing," Snake said. "Thinking too much isn't healthy. And you're the first person I've met in this business who doesn't have some screwed up mental problem wrought on by outside forces. I always figured I'd give this to someone to prove no point whatsoever. Just take it and remember that."

So Josh did. The headband was overly long, but he could see the inside embroidery in the part his hand held. The small, curvy red letters sewn in read _"Infinite Ammo."_

"Let's get the hell outta here."

With that, Snake took the last drag off of his cigarette and tossed it away.

---

The ref list:

-Note Kat using Mary-Jane Watson vocabulary on page 4.

-L'Étranger's "eat any good books lately" is line delivered by another John de Lancie character in Star Trek: The Next Generation.

-Dread is a veritable factory of quotes:

"If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face, forever." --from George Orwell's 1984

"He who hesitates is a damned fool." --Mae West

"You'll never have a quiet world until you knock the patriotism from the human race" --George Bernard Shaw.

"Jesus Christ is in Heaven now" is written on the side of one of Alucard's guns in Hellsing.

-The line about things not arriving until Tuesday is from Star Trek: Generations.

-Josh's comment about Dread's lack of appropriate grammar is inspired by a scene from Stargate SG-1.


	11. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear Solid (or anything Metal Gear for that matter,) and I don't own Max Steel. My profit from this is an exact figure of zero dollars.

Metal Gears, Nanoprobes, and a Word from our Sponsor

Epilogue

by Alhazred

madarab20@hotmail.com

http://www.rockettownonline.com/~alhazred

It was good to be back.

The warning alarm, the strange feeling of the chair lowering slowly through the force of the rings' magnetic fields, and the small breeze those same rings created as they spun around...Josh figured there must've been a lot more of that wind near the rings, but he didn't care. It was nice being in the center of it all.

And it got even better when he felt that familiar rush of Transphasic energy hit him like a drug. It wasn't the same with Berto's portable; quantity was everything.

But the best part was having a real, honest-to-God full charge. After a year of close shaves fighting Psycho, losing his cloak at the most inopportune times and passing out over really high drops, it felt damn good to have a full tank once again.

"Thanks, Doc!" he called out as soon as the rings quieted down. Dr. Yevshenko waved down to him from the control room before she turned and left, probably to tell his father the generator was fully operational before going about her business. Evidentially, she had been thrilled to be back as well.

Funny how there was a shortage in field agents, though. Jeff had called back anyone who would come the very day the FBI apologized and told him the cease & desist order was illegal and therefore, null and void. Marshak was back, Rachel was not. She was glad with the marketing job Jeff had given her for corporate N-Tek; better pay, better hours, and less danger of bodily harm. Josh couldn't really blame her.

He noticed one of the new agents walking along in one of the corridors after he left; a small man with short, blond hair. In fact, Josh only knew he was new because he didn't know him.

Said guy stopped him when they met halfway through the corridor, however. "Excuse me...can you point me to the Nanotech lab?"

Yep, defiantly new, Josh thought. He pointed in the direction he'd just come from. "Yeah, down there and take a left at the generator. Can't miss it."

"Hey thanks," he answered, idly putting a hand to the back of his head as if he expected to find something.

"You just come on?" Josh asked, for the sake of conversation.

"Uh-huh. Got a call from Snake at 5am three days ago...name's Jack."

"Josh." They shook hands, but Josh was curious. "You know Snake?"

"Yeah, we went through some crap," Jack answered, patting the back of his head again. It seemed to be a nervous habit. "Guy's a saint when he wants to be. I'm getting married soon, _and_ we're expecting…I don't wanna find out how hard it is to support a family with a dead-end job, it's kinda rough when this is all you know how to do."

"Tell me about it," Josh thought back to the day that he'd decided to drop out of college. Marshak had been right, talking him out of being Max 24-7...but Snake was right at the same time, any other job just didn't seem worthwhile. _Fighting was the only thing I was good at..._ "I'll see ya around."

Jack nodded and walked off, yet _again_ patting the back of his head. On a whim, Josh let his hearing magnify and he clearly heard Jack mutter, "I can't _believe_ he made me cut it... he didn't cut _his_..."

Deciding he didn't want to know, Josh walked along. His father wanted him to meet the new Director of Operations, something he would've done anyway. A knock on the door to Rachel's old office garnered nothing, so he opened the door and walked in. And then he fought to keep from passing out on the floor. "Oh. My. God."

There wasn't anyone in the room, and there were still a couple of cardboard boxes lying around, but Josh didn't notice that. His eyes were glued to the name on the desk; it read "Solid Snake."

"Close, Kid," Snake chuckled, rising out from underneath one of the cardboard boxes. "Did I fool ya? I don't want to get out of practice."

Rather then answering "no, of course not, your heartbeat was _echoing_ in there," Josh just stared at him, slack-jawed.

Snake tossed the box away and walked over as Josh gawked. He waved a hand in front of his face. "Earth to nano-boy. Wakey wakey."

"You...when...how?" Josh blinked.

"I asked him."

He turned to see his father walk in. Jeff wasn't doing a very good job of hiding the amusement on his face, either. "Hey, I needed _someone._ Snake here was more then happy when I gave him our kill records."

Josh was even _more_ confused now. It wasn't that he thought Snake needed to kill people like a drug, but... "You...care about that?"

"No," Snake answered. "But I'm sick of working for people who do the whole infallible military thing. Wetworks is so nineties. Besides, I need _some _way of passing on my legacy, and I'd rather not pull the shit my brothers tried. Oh, yeah, this makes me your new boss, and I couldn't resist that."

Making sure Snake saw his eyes role, Josh squeaked, "Oh, I couldn't _resist_ that..."

Jeff just chuckled. "Josh, if you don't mind, I need to see _my_ new _subordinate_ alone for a minute."

With a shrug, Josh walked out. Jefferson closed the door once he was gone, handing Snake the papers in his hand.

"Why do I not like that tone of voice," Snake thought aloud, sitting in his rather plush chair and kicking his feet up onto his desk. The cheeriness in his demeanor left more and more as he looked through the information, until, finally, he was downright pissed. "God-fucking-_damnit._"

"I'm sorry," was Jeff's response.

Feeling his blood pressure rise, Snake tossed it all into the nearby trashcan. "And he was _in_ Manhattan. Me n'Otacon were practically on _top_ of that address!"

"Yeah, that's how it always is," Jeff sighed, stepping over to the windows behind Snake. It reminded him of a few memories. "I was on assignment about a mile away when Josh's father was killed."

"Do me a favor," Snake spun in his chair, "don't tell Jack. He has enough trauma."

"Don't tell him, what?" Jefferson raised an eyebrow and looked shrewd.

Smiling, Snake answered, "my thoughts exactly."

Rubbing his temples, Snake decided he didn't want to think about it anymore. He never liked thinking about his failures like this, actually, especially when the cost was so high. Why couldn't legends be perfect?

The half-crumpled papers in his trash peaked out at anyone who would look in that direction. A few words in particular were important, such as the name of Olga's son... and the cause of death. "Kid wasn't even three... and he died of neglect. How do you _neglect_ someone in foster care?"

"Sign of the times," Jeff answered, "which says something about the times. I just try to change it harder."

"Damn straight," Snake chuckled. "Dread was right, you know. About _all_ of us... 'born to die, die to live.'"

"Yeah, even in _death_ he pisses us off," Jeff sighed. "I like to think, 'suicide is painless,' myself."

Snake tried to remember the rest...and when he did, he started singing. "Through early morning fog I see...visions of the things to be..."

Jeff joined in. "The pains that are withheld for me...I realize and I can see, that suicide is painless..."

"And I can take or leave it if I please..."

Horribly off-key, they drawled on like a pair of drunks for the entire song.

---

"You've been fixing this thing all month," Kat remarked. Berto didn't look up.

In actuality, he really _couldn't_ look up. He had shoved himself underneath the main control console in Metal Gear RAY's cockpit to fine-tune the new wiring, and considering how much space the cockpit had in the first place, this was a tight fit. "I know."

"Berto."

Hearing in her voice that she wasn't going to deal with bullshit, he reached up and yanked himself into the pilot's seat. Kat couldn't help but laugh at him as she sat on the cockpit's threshold, spots of black covering his face and glasses, even more soaked into his T-shirt.

"I never pictured you as a grease monkey," she said.

"Yeah, well, when you want it done right," he tossed a rag at her face, but she just caught it.

"Do you _know_ how much cream I put on my face in the morning?"

He ventured a guess. "None?"

"You're right," she said, tossing the rag over her shoulder.

"What the hell are you _throwing_ up there?!"

Peering over the edge of the platform Kat had climbed up to, Berto saw Snake yanking said rag off his face.

"Hey Doc," Snake went on, "how's it going so far?"

"Almost done," Berto waved back down. "Just some tests to go through and Marine logos to scrape off."

"Great, keep it up, Doc," Snake walked away.

Seeing the man had made Kat notice something; Berto was still wearing Snake's gun. "How're you feeling?"

"Okay," he looked back at RAY's controls, fiddling with the interface, not really doing anything.

"You know Berto," she started, "I know what's it's like to not be particularly happy about something in the past. It's just not a month ago for me."

"Heh, easy for you to say," he answered. "You could choose to leave. You _did._"

"Maybe," she raised an eyebrow. "Maybe not. Ask me how I know L'Étranger."

That caught Berto's attention, the question he'd forgotten to ask all this time. He turned to her, awaiting the answer.

"Once upon a time, our dear freelancer led a street gang I happened to be a part of. I don't even _know_ how he got where he is today, and I doubt I _want_ to," she scratched her head. "He's not even French, the accent's fake."

"You're kidding!" Berto chuckled.

"I most certainly am not. I'd tell you his real name and how _shitty_ he was in bed, but you'd fall off this thing laughing."

At that, he stopped and just looked at her again. "Oh..."

"God, don't pity me Berto. I told ya I did some bad stuff then. Besides, he's not worth it," she grinned. "_Really_ shitty."

"I'm going to tell him he has size issues the next time he tries to throttle me," Berto declared.

"Oh, he has that too," Kat rolled her eyes. "But, yeah, that's the story. Okay, so he wasn't the best lay in town, but it still happened, and I still have to live with the fact that I slept with a sleazy wanna-be terrorist who helps other, more evil terrorists get the job done. And it sucks. But you know, eventually you realize life goes on."

"Yeah, I guess," he said.

"I thought pretty highly of him back then," she confessed, "which is probably what hurts most of all. But it's nice to know I'm not kidding myself if I care about other. Like _you._"

He blinked. "What about Josh?"

"Oh, I don't care about Josh like I care about you," she answered. "And something tells me Josh doesn't care about _me_ the way _you_ do, either."

Opening his mouth to say something, Berto suddenly found himself with Kat's finger at his lips.

"Before you ask...that time where you followed me around _in knee-deep snow_ with a cold as all hell steel folding chair, demanding I rest? That was a pretty big hint. That and having a serious problem with blood flow to the brain at being _spied_ on in the shower..."

"Kat!" He cried, turning an interesting shade of 'pale' mixed with 'blush.'

"Hey," she innocently shrugged, "L'Étranger was worse."

Strangely, that made him feel better. "So...you wanna catch a movie sometime or...something?"

Giving him a rather evil snicker, she wiped the grease from his lips and leaned over the open cockpit hatch. "Berto, I would love to."

Several seconds later, standing in the corner of the maintenance bay's ground floor, Otacon blink through his scope. "Was that her tongue?"

"Would you give me that!" Snake yelled, snatching the item back.

"You know," Josh admitted, adjusting his sight, "I never saw _this_ coming."

Looking through his scope, Snake added, "someone's jealous. And Otacon, to be frank, I can't tell whose tongue is whose. Didn't Wolf teach you these things?"

"Well, she- hey!"

"I am _not _jealous!" Josh huffed. "I just said I didn't expect it! Can't a guy make an innocent comment?"

Taking the scope off, Snake took a second to breathe. "Not you, _me._ _I'm_ jealous! I do all the flirting, _he_ does the make-out scenes!"

"And this surprises you...why?" Josh shrugged, trying very hard not to laugh.

"I outta hit you, Kid..."

---

The mansion was a nice one, really. The lobby was particularly spacious, home to a large television and a few nice couches. Still, Psycho would've enjoyed it a lot more if he weren't confined to a wheelchair with two broken legs. He'd have to pay Snake back for that one day.

Vamp also cramped the style, piled on top of a lit Wok, frozen solid and slowly thawing out.

It was kind of funny. And then Naomi walked in, and it was even funnier, because she laughed at it aloud. "How are the legs?"

Looking down at his casts, Psycho regarded her like she was a fool. "Well, let's see. They're _broken_. Whaddaya _think?_"

She pulled a capped syringe from her pocket and tossed it into his lap. "They won't be for long. Go for it."

"Is this what I think it is?"

"Yep," she answered, pulling another and injecting herself with the substance. "We're the only two that need it, really. Vamp...well, doesn't, and John's work fine for him. Ours have the necessary alterations."

Satisfied, Psycho stretched his human arm out and injected the contents into his bloodstream. "Works for me. I'm gonna go grab food."

Before he wheeled away, he looked up the staircase when footsteps started walking down. Dread looked down at him. "You're going to eat us out of house and home, Psycho."

"Boss," Psycho answered, looking around the expansive mansion, "I couldn't eat this place if I _tried._ Where the hell's that kid you hired to be our gofer, anyway? I can't get upstairs without 'em."

"Johnny?" Dread tried to remember. "Oh, I sent him grocery shopping."

"Oh, food," Psycho's red eyes lit up a little more, "even better! I believe I'll consume what's left at the moment."

Rolling himself towards the kitchen, Psycho drew Naomi's attention as he left. The look of him in a squeaking wheelchair was too much. "Oh, and John?"

"Yes, 'Naomi?'"

"Why is there a gigantic Wok sitting on the floor, cooking a pile of crushed ice?"

Looking at the offending kitchen appliance plugged into the nearest outlet, Dread answered, "That's Vamp. We're thawing him out."

"Ah!" Naomi answered. "I'll give him a gift for when he wakes up..."

With that, she pulled her own face off, Mission: Impossible style... and tossed it on top of the ice. She was, however, tempted to throw it into the flame underneath.

"Five years, I've been wearing that thing for five years every other day, barring the prison term, and I'm _free!_"

More then a little amused, Dread smiled at her. "A well-deserved freedom, Dragonelle. You ever told me, did you _really_ know Gray Fox?"

"Of course," she beamed. "Taught me everything I know. I was damned lucky he never _saw_ me at Shadow Moses when people started throwing my alias around...he's the one who started calling me 'Naomi' in the first place, actually. And I never _did_ give Snake FOXDIE, either... I hated him so much I wanted to see him sweat about it everyday that it didn't come."

"Yes, well, it's too bad you didn't," Dread said, "High on my list of personal wishes is Solid six feet under. I believe Liquid put it best; 'there's room for only one Snake, and one Big Boss.'"

"He'll be gone soon enough, and we won't have aged a day," Dragonelle added, looking rather proud of herself. "Just so you know, John, if you ever get yourself killed, I'm selling my fountain of youth for a fortune."

That netted a smile from him. "Hah. I plan on being around for a very long time, Dragonelle," he said, unbuttoning the top of his shirt and showing the hardened shell of nanoprobes sealing the hole in his chest as they repaired his heart. "Even if regenerating vital organs takes longer then it would for our friend, Mr. Steel."

"Complain, complain, complain," she laughed, walking by and waving a finger in his face, before sitting on the couch. "Actually, that was the one thing I _couldn't _crack, even with the N-Tek research. Using the Max Probes as an age inhibitor forces them to work slowly on immediate regeneration. I wonder if Dr. Martinez ever figured any of this out."

"Doubtful," Dread told her, buttoning his shirt back up. "The good doctor has ethical considerations, he wouldn't _dream_ of using the technology for things that could be seriously...amoral. I, on the other hand, am quite content to rule the world forever."

Dragonelle planned on continuing the conversation, but a splash of water drew her attention as well as Dread's, and they looked over to the other side of the room to find Vamp sitting in the wok. He looked a bit dazed, but he was in one piece, and he promptly shook his head to clear the cobwebs, stood up, and squeezed the water out of his hair.

"That," he took his coat off, hopped into the air and hung it off a chandelier to dry, "was a new experience."

"Indeed," raising his eyebrows, Dread turned back to the stairs. "I think Jim is done with his nap..."

He left the way he came, leaving Vamp to look Dragonelle over while peeling her Naomi mask from the top of his damp head. "Finally shed the mask, eh Queen?"

"Thankfully."

Without another word, Vamp tackled her onto the rather expensive couch Psycho had contributed to the place.

"You'll ruin the leather," she gave him the most bored look she could muster, but he wasn't fooled.

"Good."

"Dragonelle, Vamp," Dread leaned over the top of the staircase, "I'm going to...yes, I think I _will_ take Jim for a walk...before you corrupt his poor mind... and it'll be good to get out before I give the President his instructions for the next few days."

He'd looked just in time to see them necking rather passionately on the couch, and it didn't look like it was going to stop there anytime soon.

A few seconds later, Psycho rolled back in, a sandwich in one hand, a cigar between his jaws. Said cigar dropped from his mouth as soon as he caught sight of the scene. _"What are you doing on my couch!"_

Taking a breather from each other's mouths, Vamp and Dragonelle looked at each other, then at Psycho. It was Vamp who answered. "Asking you to join us?"

At a door that led outside, far from the lobby where the porn movie was being made, Dread could hear Psycho's ear-piercing shriek of horror. Or was that pleasure? He didn't want to know.

Little four-year-old Jim heard it to, but he didn't give it another thought. He just held onto Dread's hand as they walked out the door. And Dread thought about how Jim was walking everywhere now, the boy was getting into everything ever since he'd taken his first steps. Yes, it was defiantly time to child-proof the house.

Being a father _was_ life's greatest experience, Dread decided. Though, he'd have to give the poor boy a last name one of these days. 'Jim McGrath' or 'Jim Gurlukovich' would draw Josh or Solid's attention the instant they saw it in any database. And the latter would make him quite the dartboard in school, as well. Maybe good old "Nathanson" would work...

Still, Dread pondered; it wasn't a problem that couldn't be solved. _Solid, I **told** you you'd never find Olga's child._

~fin~

The ref list:

-"Suicide is Painless" is the theme song to M*A*S*H. In actuality, Snake and Jeff are too young to have seen M*A*S*H during the original run, when I'm guessing it had the most impact on people. But then, I doubt people who live wars don't really need to see war stories _during_ one to grasp it.

I owe thanks to a lot of people for this. Princess Artemis (www.princessartemis.com) Ellen Brand (http://EllenB.freeservers.com/main.html) and others for reading, and Almasy (www.almasymarquis.com) for the idea that Naomi didn't infect Snake with FOXDIE at all.

****

Orwell was right


End file.
